Divine Punishment
by sherazade96
Summary: The rebellion failed, and all its leaders were executed. Now, Panem has a new president, who wants to bring up the nation after the war. But with the Capitol willing to get back at the districts, what cruel fate will tributes meet in the 76th Hunger Games? SYOT CLOSED, but SUBMISSIONS FOR SPONSORS are now AVAILABLE!
1. Responsibilities

**Hi, everyone! I've decided to write this SYOT in parallel with my other fanfic _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_. They are both set in the same AU, so you'll find some references, which I will explain at the end of the chapters (you'll find the symbol *, in case). _Divine Punishment_ is about the 76****th**** Hunger Games. For further info about my AU and submissions, see my profile.**

**Enjoy your reading :) **

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_Present day_

_Falcon Smith (51)- President of Panem_

A light rain is falling over the graveyard- a manicured, green lawn with white tombstones aligned all over it. The ground is slightly sloping and, in the distance, you can see a lake shrouded in mist. A rather beautiful place to be a place of death and sorrow. Some parts of the graveyard are still condemned… a year has passed since the end of the war, but the signs of the destruction brought by the rebels are still visible. I feel a lump in my throat. Those rebels didn't respect anybody, not even the dead! This awareness makes my duty even more necessary. As the new president of Panem, I cannot let the districts get away with what they have done. I have to convey an important message to the entire nation, and this message will be the 76th Hunger Games.

Regardless of the rain, I'm wandering about the tombstones till I find what I was looking for. In fact, I stop in front of a simple, white gravestone. No decorations, just a name in gold letters. GORGO SMITH… and below it… BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER.

"I'm here again, my love," I greet her, as if she could reply.

I lay a bouquet of mimosa on her grave.

"I don't know how you can stand its scent, but it's your favourite flower, so I thought you would appreciate this modest gift," I go on.

"She certainly would," says a voice behind my back.

I turn around and see Ismene, my sister-in-law. She's wearing a white coat, the same colour of her umbrella. Some raindrops has stopped on her long eyelashes, giving shine to her pale green eyes.

"Ismene… how you doing?" I ask her.

"Excited about my new job. A great responsibility, but I'll do my best to be up to it," she answers, getting closer to shelter me under her umbrella.

"I know you will."

She smiles. "And what about you, Mr. President? How you doing?"

I smile back. "Mr. President? We have already switched to formality, have we?"

"Seriously… how do you feel, Falcon? Are you ready for your new responsibilities?" she asks, holding my arm. I can see some genuine concern in her eyes.

"Don't worry. I've come to visit Gorgo just to remind myself of my mission… I'll stay strong for her and for every Capitolite who suffered because of the rebels. I don't know whether her vile murderer is still alive *****, but with their leaders executed and the Hunger Games looming over them, the districts won't rise up again, that's for sure!" I reply with renewed ardour.

She nods. "The execution of all their leaders was certainly a blow to them," she agrees with me.

I bring back to mind the images of the execution. It was a sunny day… a sign from the Heavens, the odds were in our favour. It took place in the main square. For the occasion, a stage had been set up for the authorities. On the buildings all around the square, flags and banners with the seal of the Capitol… an attempt to hide the destruction brought about by the war. But it was also an attempt to give Capitolites the confidence in the new government they needed. The authorities reunited for a historic event… it was definitely a message of hope. One by one, the condemned paraded in front of the stage, handcuffed but not bandaged, so that I could see their faces from my seat. Peeta Mellark, too shell-shocked to realize what was happening. Haymitch Abernathy, too drunk to care. Even Alma Coin had lost all her bravado. And then I saw her, Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay. Her entrance triggered boos and yells from the crowd, and peacekeepers struggled to silence it. Katniss Everdeen had lost everything she could lose, yet her gaze was still defiant. I will never forget that gaze. Her grey eyes full of hatred and anger… she was like a ravenous tiger in a cage, powerless but threatening. Anyway, the execution took one second, just the time to load the rifles and shoot. The list of the condemned was long, so they weren't executed all at once. There was also Plutarch Heavensbee on that list- betraying the Capitol as he had done was unforgivable- and some of the past victors like Johanna Mason. Her attitude surprised me, too. When she made her appearance, she was smiling, she seemed relieved. But I didn't care. Just one shot, and everything was over also for her.

"Falcon?"

I'm dragged back into reality.

"Everything ok?" Ismene asks me, worried.

"Yeah… I was just thinking about the past," I answer.

"Don't thing about the past, think about the near future. We'll make the 76th annual Hunger Games memorable… together," she says with a wide, reassuring smile.

"That's for sure."

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**So, this was the first chapter. What do you think of the execution scene? To be sincere, it's the first time that I use canon characters. Do you think I did them justice?  
**

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***Gorgo Smith worked as a peacekeeper in District 2. She died in the Nut. She's mentioned in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_ chapter 2 (The New Head Gamemaker).**


	2. List of Tributes

**To submit tributes, you just need to send a review or PM me. I will update this list as soon as I'll accept your tributes. You'll find all info on my profile. Just remember that the main theme of this story is Capitol's revenge after the rebellion. Thank you :)**

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D1-Luxury

Male: Iron Rattler (14), the Rebel's Son- by _santiagoponcini20_

Female: Honey Valli (18), the Cold-Hearted- by _AmazonWarrior04_

D2- Masonry

Male: Gavriel Asterin (18), the Weapon- by _SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn_

Female: Lokir Mistlyre (16), the Trickster- by _SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn_

D3- Technology

Male: Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17), the Enigma- by _SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn_

Female: Dorah Asyn (18), the Positive- by _santiagoponcini20_

D4- Fishing

Male: Izumi Laine (12), the Flirt- by _santiagoponcini20_

Female: Olivia Simmons (17), the Determined- by _Katie Blake_

D5- Power

Male: Lorenzo "Salas" Jacobson (18), the Machine- by _santiagoponcini20_

Female: Dynamica Sleet (16), the Protector- by _Annabeth Pie_

D6- Transportation

Male: Ponce Rossi (18), the Psychologist- by _santiagoponcini20_

Female: Futaba Nakamura (15), the Hacker- by _santiagoponcini20_

D7- Lumber

Male: Linden Auxley (13), the Prankster- by _xQueen-Of-Applesx_

Female: Azalea "Lea" Redwood (17), the Hummingbird- by _xQueen-Of-Applesx_

D8- Textiles

Male: Truett Wilson (16), the Secret Doctor- by _OrdinaryChildOfTheKing_

Female: Iora Liberty (14), the Model- by _santiagoponcini20_

D9- Grain

Male: Xantinus "Xanti" Polliark (18), the Poet- by _santiagoponcini20_

Female: Rye Freshna (17), the Nice- by _Pacecca_

D10- Livestock

Male: Malachi Day (17), the Loyal Shepherd- by _OrdinaryChildOfTheKing_

Female: Rowley Star (18), the Broken- by _Nightshade494_

D11- Agriculture

Male: Lavender Sunnart (13), the Colour Blind- by _Nightshade494_

Female: Livia Marigold (17), the Botanist- by _Nightshade494_

D12- Mining

Male: Canaan Redfield (15), the Silver Knife- by _Paradigm of Writing_

Female: Rita Hollenthorpe (17), the Cold Whore- by _Paradigm of Writing_

D13- Nuclear Weapons

Male: Kieran Moss (18), the Gentle Giant- by _Hawkmaid_

Female: Periwinkle "Peri" Larrson (13), the Dove- by _Hawkmaid_


	3. Nepotism

**Hi, everyone! Thank you for reading and reviewing! This is another introductory chapter before the Reapings, written from the point of view of Ismene, the new Head Gamemaker. Let me know what you think of it!**

**Before we start, I inform you that you can still submit tributes (check the list on chapter 2, or see my profile). As for my other fanfic (****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_****), there are some available slots for sponsors (see my profile or PM me, if interested). People who submit will get the possibility of assigning extra points to their favourite tributes (the list of the current submitters is on my profile).**

**Enjoy your reading :)**

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_Present day_

_Ismene Flair (45)- Head Gamemaker_

The Gamemaking Building has been put up ex-novo- a pipe-shaped skyscraper made of steel and glass. Quite impressive at the sight, especially today. Rain has stopped, but the sky is still overcast. The sun behind the clouds makes it almost unbearable to look at, and the Building is now reflecting the sunlight like a giant diamond standing out towards the Heavens.

Outside the Building, a convoy of reporters is waiting for me. They surround me as soon as I get out of the limousine.

"Mrs. Flair, what's your strategy for the Games?" asks one.

"It's easy to say… I'm going to work hard along with my staff to make the 76th Hunger Games memorable. No need to say that this edition has to celebrate a historic event: Capitol's second victory over its enemies. We'll do our best to live up to everybody's expectations," I answer with a confident smile.

"What about the arena?" asks another one.

"Oh, I can't anticipate anything. The arena gonna be a surprise like any other year. All I can say is that it will highlight the leading role the Capitol has the moral duty to play."

"Mrs. Flair, it is said that Gamemakers want to change the rules to make this edition more similar to a Quarter Quell. What can you tell us about it?"

"That's not true. Changing the rules… what for? The Hunger Games are a well-oiled machine! Changing the rules would be an act of weakness, it would tell our enemies that their foolish rebellion has affected us for real, don't you think?" I reply.

It's incredible what journalists are able to invent just to make headlines!

"Mrs. Flair, why has President Smith chosen you to be the new Head Gamemaker? Do you think he has made it by virtue of the fact that you are his sister-in-law?"

This question catches me momentarily off guard. It wasn't totally unexpected, though, just… I didn't think it would pop up in such an impudent manner. In other words, these reporters think that I'm not capable… that Falcon has appointed me only due to the bond that unites us… not because he trusts me, not because I can make it. The worst part of all is that they might be right. The Hunger Games world is totally new to me, I've got no experience as a Gamemaker. In any case, I'll never admit it. But I must find a good answer soon. All the reporters are now silent, waiting for me to speak, eager to report every word I utter. They're aiming their mics at me as if they were rifles.

"President Smith has full confidence in me, that must mean something, right? For my part, this job is a great honour, to which I'm going to dedicate myself entirely. If I were you, I wouldn't judge my work before I start," I say, eventually.

That said, I enter the Gamemaking Building helped by some bodyguards, who steer the crowd away from me. Once inside, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"Those reporters gave you a hard time, didn't they?" says Oberon, who has come to greet me as usual.

Oberon Baynes is an experienced Gamemaker, who has helped me a lot in the preparation of the Games. In these months, he has become my confidant. He has bristly, brown hair with emerald green extensions, a pale face with high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, very thin lips, and green eyes. He has had his eyes surgically altered to make them glow like those of a cat. Today, he's wearing a purple shirt with matching pants and boots.

"They accuse our president of nepotism," I say, grimly.

"Predicable. But don't lose your faith, Ismene, you'll show them what you can do. To become a popular Head Gamemaker, the Hunger Games must thrill the audience. That's the essence of our job: people must be glued to their screens all the time, otherwise it's a flop, and we cannot afford a flop!"

I nod. "You're right, Oberon. That's why I considered it wise to meet all my staff before the Reapings. I know some of them frown upon my appointment, but I'd like to underline that the success of the 76th Hunger Games is far more important than it."

"That's the spirit!" says Oberon, smiling.

While we're heading to the Gamemaking Room, we start making small talk. It takes my mind off, at least.

"How's your wife, by the way?" I ask him- his wife is pregnant.

"She's fine. Just a few weeks from giving birth… we're both eager to welcome little Emeralda in our family!" he answers.

"Oh, you've already decided on the name! Emeralda Baynes… sounds good!"

In the meantime, we've got to our destination. As soon as the door opens, my heart starts racing. The Gamemaking Room is round-shaped. In the middle, a holographic projection of the arena with a series of computer stations all around it. There are different stations to check on weather, mutts, etc. Actually, every inch of the arena is monitored. A special section of the Gamemaking stuff deals with sponsors and supplies. When I enter the room, all Gamemakers stand up. My station is higher up than those of the others. I sit down.

"Take your seats, please. Shall we start the meeting?"

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**So, this chapter presents an important topic: nepotism. What's your opinion? Do you think Ismene gonna be up the expectations? **

**Reviews and submissions are appreciated (for both stories). Thank you!**


	4. D13: the Dove and the Gentle Giant

**Hi, everyone! With this chapter, we begin with the Reapings. You can still submit tributes for this story (I need male characters in particular), and sponsors for ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_****. Both forms are on my profile. After all the Reapings are done, submitters will be able to assign 20 EXTRA POINTS to tributes per chapter. Besides, tributes can earn points through your reviews, so, even if you don't submit, you can still sponsor. This applies to both my stories, so let me know what you think of ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _****too, please. See my profile for further info or PM me.**

**And now let's start with the Reaping of District 13! Thanks to ****_Hawkmaid _****for submitting!**

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_3 years ago_

_Periwinkle "Peri" Larrson (10)- Citizen of District 13_

I've lived all my life in the underground tunnels of District 13, on the margins of society, with the few people who haven't accepted the militaristic lifestyle President Coin has imposed us. I'm not born to be a soldier, all I need is my freedom. I've never been able to stand the sense of oppression I feel in the tunnels, that's why I don't miss a chance to get outside. My parents keep saying that it's dangerous, because we cannot let the Capitol find us. But I've managed to reach a compromise: I can go outside during the night… but I always anticipates it, so that I can watch the sunset. Everything outside is better than the grey life in the tunnels- the breath-taking colours of a sunset, the smell of flowers, the gentle breeze that caresses your face… human beings aren't meant to live underground, that's for sure.

At the moment, I'm going outside with the Norton twins- Tessa and York- who are of my same age. We have planned to spend the night out until dawn. Our two families live together in a housing unit, which has been abandoned because it was too old and rickety. But my father and Mr. Norton have managed to fix it. It consists of a simple, grey cube equipped with bunk beds, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. It is meant for one little family, so we take turns to sleep on the beds, which is not good for my scoliosis. In any case, I get on well with the Nortons, especially with Tessa and York, because they're of few words like me.

"How much longer, Peri?" York asks me with a whiny tone.

"We're almost there," I answer, without turning around.

It's the first time York comes with us. I usually go outside only with Tessa, because she's the only one who has the guts to do it… besides me, of course. Her brother is too scared by our parents' discourses about the Capitol monitoring us, it's a miracle that he came.

When we finally get outside, the sky is already on fire, coloured of sunset- red, orange, the blinding yellow shape of the sun on the horizon… green and blue to the edges, meaning that the night is slowly falling. You can already see the first stars, in fact. By York's amazed expression, I can tell that he thinks it was worth it. Certainly, he couldn't imagine that there was such a wonderful world right outside the tunnels of District 13.

Suddenly, this wonderful, quiet moment is interrupted by a muffled tremor from the underground. At first, it's just a feeble feeling- I hear something move under my feet, something like the choked breath of a giant- but then the earth starts trembling.

"An earthquake!" shouts Tessa.

We should be safe out here… but our families? Before I can even realize it, I'm running back into the tunnels.

"Peri!" someone screams my name from behind my back… Tessa? York? I don't know.

My back aches like death, but I don't care, I'm running as fast as I can. The tunnel where I am in is lit by strips of neon white light, but the earthquake makes it flicker. Half-blinded by this blinking light, I manage to reach our housing unit. My family and the Nortons are all hidden under the beds. Suddenly, a violent earth tremor brings me to my knees. A creepy creaking comes from the ceiling. Does it mean that it's about to collapse?

"Get out! Quick!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

My father leaves his hiding with one lightning-fast sprint. He pushes me out of the housing unit, protecting me with his own body, right before a brown avalanche buries it. The tunnel fills up with smoke. When it finally clears, I can see that also my mother and my little sister Penelope are safe. But where's my brother? Where are the Nortons? They've got trapped! A mountain of earth has blocked the entrance!

"Peter!" I call my brother, desperate.

I start digging, trying to rescue him. It feels like I was digging into a rock. My nails are all broken, my hands are all covered with bleeding cuts.

"Peter!" I shout again, and then I burst into tears.

…...

_Last year_

_Kieran Moss (17)- Citizen of District 13_

I like hunting with Duncan. In District 13, food is categorically rationed. _You should live only with what you really need. If you take more than what is necessary, then you rob your own people_… that's what we're taught since childhood. In my opinion, that's not a life, that's mere survival, but I have to admit that it has a logic. Anyway, some extra food won't hurt. Of course, not everyone in Thirteen has the permission to go hunting, only experts- people who can handle a weapon, at least. But, despite my experience with that stuff, I don't find pleasure in killing. Hunting is just a fight between predators and preys, that's all.

Duncan stops to refill our flasks at the stream. I rest under the shade of a tree.

"The water is so fresh! Do you wanna bathe?" says Duncan with a smirk.

Of course, he knows that I hate water with a passion, especially bathing. I do it only when it's strictly necessary. Duncan likes teasing me, but today I'm not in the right mood to play along.

"Shall we talk about something serious? What do you think of the president's discourse?" I ask him with my face in gloom.

Today, President Coin has given a solemn speech about District 13's leading role in the imminent war. There are already some rumours about uprisings in Seven, Eight, and Eleven, and she believes that Katniss Everdeen's actions in the arena will fuel them, and affect the entire nation, eventually.

"To be honest, I don't think our district should get involved. Yes, now we're well-armed and better organized than during the Dark Days, but we have already payed too much. Look! We live underground, hidden like rats… our president thinks that we're all soldiers to command… things will only get worse, if we expose ourselves," he replies, shaking his head.

"But if we won the war, everything would be over… no more hiding, no more food rationing, no more Hunger Games!" I point out.

"_If _we won… but what if we lost?"

Duncan is right. If we did lose, the Capitol would get back at us, too… especially at us. But we cannot turn a blind eye while the rest of Panem is suffering! We must do something!

"In any case, do you really think things would be that better? No, only the authorities would change, but they could turn out to be worse than President Snow himself. Besides, Alma Coin is definitely not a philanthropist… if she became president of Panem, who knows what she could do?" Duncan goes on.

I don't know what to reply. I've never questioned Coin's good intentions. But, on second thought, if Katniss Everdeen hadn't won the 74th Hunger Games, the districts wouldn't have started to rebel, would they? And if they hadn't, would our president have decided to make District 13 expose itself, anyway? Probably not. We would have stayed hidden as always.

My thoughts are interrupted by the noise of several steps approaching, which makes flocks of birds flee.

"Those are not few people, that's an army!" whispers Duncan, who has instinctively moved his hand to the sheath of his dagger.

The first people emerge eventually from the trees… they're all dirty and underfed, but, when they see us, their eyes light up. Leading the group, there's a boy with muscled physique, olive skin, dark hair, and grey eyes.

"Who are they?" asks Duncan under his breath. His tone is definitely unfriendly; besides, he hasn't taken his hand off his sheath.

"Leave the talking to me," I reply.

When the boy gets closer, I greet him: "Hi!"

"Where are we?" he replies with a question, without greeting me back.

Okay, politeness is not the way, in this case.

"Where do you come from?" I ask him.

"District 12," he answers.

"District 12? What has happened?"

I'm a bit confused. Those people don't seem fugitives… they have almost nothing with them; secondly, they're too many and others are joining them… again and again. It's almost as if the entire district had chosen to move.

"They attacked us with firebombs, our district doesn't exist any longer. These people are the only survivors," replies the boy with clenched fists.

"Who did attack you?"

"What a silly question! The Capitol, of course! Who else could it be? Listen, we have been fleeing for days without seeing a soul, and there are some wounded who need treating. Can you help us instead of talking?" he says, clearly beside himself.

"We'll help you. Welcome to District 13."

"District 13? But it was…"

"…destroyed? It was a lie! You need more than a couple of bombs to destroy us!" Duncan chimes in.

We lead the survivors from Twelve to the underground tunnels, explaining them how our district has managed to thrive after the Dark Days. They seem all impressed, especially the boy. The Capitol was cruel to them… destroying an entire district without mercy… as they tried to do to Thirteen, after all… but we were luckier. In little time, they're all assisted, fed, and housed. They're told all they need to know about our lifestyle, especially about the schedule system. A lot of people volunteer to help them. That's the way things should always be, there should always be peace and mutual support.

Since my hunting time is almost over, I check my schedule. There's COOKING next. I've started helping in the canteen's kitchen when I was only 10. In District 13, orphans like Duncan and me are often employed for community service. In this way, we're in contact with people, which is something I really love... just making someone smile fills me with joy. While I'm in the kitchen, I notice that a rather little girl is taking out the trays with food. I've never seen her before. She has pixie-cut, ashy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She must have back problems, because her upper body tilts to the left.

"Don't you think they're too heavy for you?" I ask her.

She immediately blushes, and looks down without saying a word.

"Hey, you have nothing to fear from me… yes, I'm a giant compared to you, but I'm a gentle one. My name is Kieran," I go on.

"Periwinkle," she replies, smiling slightly.

"You should smile more often, Periwinkle, your smile is really beautiful."

…...

_Present day_

_Periwinkle "Peri" Larrson (13)- Citizen of District 13_

I draw a P in the dust of the floor. Periwinkle, Penelope, Peter… I don't know why our parents gave the three of us a name beginning with P. Tears start flooding from my eyes. I shouldn't think of Peter, I shouldn't think of my parents… after his death, they decided to join a new project launched by the president *****, and moved to another district, leaving me and my little sister alone. Why did they do it? What have we done to deserve this destiny? I've been asking myself these questions since then. Luckily, a family friend has decided to take care of us, and she has done that also for Tessa and York Norton. We call her aunt Marie, even if she's not our aunt for real.

Someone is mounting the stairs.

"I knew you were here," says Tessa, as soon as she gets in.

I don't say anything in response.

"What are you doing in the attic? It's a nice day outside!" she goes on.

"I don't want to go out," I say, without looking at her.

"You can't stay here, and you know it… today, there's the Reaping."

I wince at the thought. This gonna be my first Reaping. The rebellion failed and, to top it off, District 13 was forced to participate in the annual Hunger Games. The bare idea of killing someone to please the Capitol makes me shiver. I can't imagine a worse punishment… and there's nothing we can do to prevent two poor souls from being sent to the arena.

I wipe away my tears, and follow Tessa downstairs. Aunt Marie has prepared breakfast. It's a poor meal- just some bread slices soaked with milk. Actually, we cannot afford to spend too much money with her job and five mouths to feed. Aunt Marie doesn't want us to work, if it weren't for the tesserae we took out months ago… she tried to stop us, of course, but we didn't want to listen to reason. Aunt Marie has made sacrifices to help us, a now it's our turn to pay her back.

After finishing breakfast, we get ready for the Reaping. I wear a simple, floral dress with puff sleeves. Originally, its colour must have been yellow, but the fabric is now washed out.

We walk to the main square in silence. I hold hands with Penelope. Luckily, she's only ten, she cannot be reaped… for the moment, at least. It's incredible how things can change in one year. Before the rebellion, we all lived underground, and now many buildings has been constructed above ground, including the Justice Building. I look up at the blue sky, and see a flock of birds flying away. Oh, if only we could all fly away from this place like those birds! When we reach the main square, we part from aunt Marie and my sister to join the thirteen-year-old section. I notice that someone glares at Marie… I know someone thinks that she looks after us only to get tesserae, but that's not true. In the meantime, the mayor- Desmond Blight- has mounted the stage. He's a Capitolite like the Head Peacekeeper.

"Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games, dear citizens! This is the first year we participate, and I hope we will all follow this important competition with enthusiasm… like the rest of Panem, after all!" he says.

Then, the escort is introduced- a man with black tattoos all over his body. He doesn't seem glad to be here. In fact, he doesn't say too much, and moves on to the actual Reaping almost immediately. He starts with the boys.

"Tomas Orangine!"

"I volunteer!" someone shouts from the front.

A very tall boy with scarred, dark skin, black hair, big, brown eyes, and dimples on his cheeks mounts the stage… but I know him! It's Kieran, the boy who worked in the canteen's kitchen! Why did he volunteer? He's such a gentle person, I can't imagine him competing in the Games.

"Fantastic! It's your first year, District 13, and you have already a volunteer! What's your name?" says the escort, who has suddenly lit up.

"Kieran Moss," he replies with a self-confident smile.

"Very well, Kieran! And now, for the girls… Periwinkle Larrson!"

No, it can't be… as soon as my name is called, I start sobbing. A peacekeeper has to drag me out of my section to make me mount the stage. Kieran is looking at me with a sad expression on his face. He has certainly recognized me. I stand beside him, keeping my eyes down. I'm still sobbing.

"Any volunteer?" asks the escort, clearly hoping to repeat what happened with Kieran. But no one answers, of course.

Eventually, the escort puts an end to this torture. "Ladies and gentlemen, Kieran Moss and Periwinkle Larrson, the tributes of District 13! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" he says, a bit disappointed.

We enter the Justice Building, where we're assigned a separate waiting room for visitors. Aunt Marie comes to say goodbye along with Penelope, Tessa, and York. They're all crying. We do a hug group.

"Please, don't live me alone, Peri, not you!" Penelope begs me.

My heart sinks even more. "I'm going to come back, I promise… and you know that I always keep my promises," I reply, even if I can't hold back my tears.

Everyone in the room knows that I'm not going to keep this promise. I've got no hope.

At some point, aunt Marie breaks the embrace, and chimes in: "I'd like you to take this… it's a photo that was taken the day you came live with me…"

She gives me the picture. It's a little faded, but I can see that we're all standing in front of our house, all with a happy smile. It seems like forever ago.

"At least, you'll have a piece of home with you," she adds, teary.

"Thank you," I reply in a whisper.

…...

_Kieran Moss (18)- District 13 male tribute_

I can't believe Periwinkle was reaped. I've talked to her just a few times after our first encounter, but she's like a sister to me. She didn't deserve it… no one deserves it in the end, that's why we rebelled. But we were defeated, and that's our punishment. At least, I managed to save the reaped boy… but what should I do with Periwinkle? She's so tiny and defenceless; if I don't protect her, she will die soon.

My thoughts are interrupted by Duncan's arrival.

"Why did you volunteer, Kieran? You don't even know the reaped boy!" he immediately shouts. He's clearly angry, but also sad.

"I stand more chances than him," I reply.

"No, you don't! You're a good hunter, that's for sure, but… but you've never… you've never killed a person! You might have experience with weapons and technology, but what do you need it for? You're going to fight against the Careers! Those are trained to kill, Kieran!" he goes on, beside himself.

I put my hands on his shoulders. "Duncan, you know me, I couldn't just stand by and watch, I had to do something!"

"The usual hothead, eh?"

He has calmed down a little.

I smile. "Of course."

He sights, hiding his eyes with his hand. "Just promise me that you'll prove yourself… that you won't embarrass your district…" he stammers.

"I promise."

Before leaving the room, he turns around to watch me one more time. His eyes are reddish. "Good luck, Kieran," he says.

Then, he leaves me alone.

* * *

**Okay, the first Reaping is done! We have met two interesting tributes, very different from each other, but also with something in common. What do you think of them? Do you like the way I portrayed them? **

**From now on, tributes will start to earn points. A review about them is worth 5 points. See my profile or PM me for further info about the sponsor system. **

**Have a nice day, and thank you for reading :)**

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*** The Repopulation Project (see ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _****chapter 6)**


	5. D2: the Weapon and the Trickster

**Hi, everyone! With this chapter, we move from the beaten District 13- which takes part in the Hunger Games for the first time- to the very heart of Panem a.k.a. District 2. Actually, I've decided not to follow the numerical order for the Reapings just because this SYOT is not yet closed, and I don't want to wait and make you wait too much before updating. As for my next updates, see my profile. Since I'm writing two paralleled stories, I will upload one chapter for each. PM me for any doubts or questions, I don't mind chatting with other writers :)**

**Enjoy your reading! **

* * *

_The day before the Reaping_

_Markus Schwarz (47)- Trainer at the academy *****_

A bell rings, signalling that another training day is over. Trainers starts cleaning up the gym, helped by some guys. Not many trainees stay longer to help. Actually, the majority of our trainees comes from wealthy families- people used to be served and revered, who certainly don't lift a finger to help others. The academy should be a place not only to train for the Games, but also a school of life. Nevertheless, some teachings like humbleness seem to be hard to take in, no matter how much you try to teach them.

My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar noise: the subtle swing of a sword. I look up, and see that a trainee is still there. He turns around and smirks, his dark golden eyes lit by a sinister glint. I feel like he was able to read my thoughts. But I've got used to that gaze, the gaze of Gavriel Asterin, the boy chosen to represent District 2 in the 76th Hunger Games. Despite the rebellion, our district is still the most loyal to the Capitol, so our tributes may receive a better treatment. And how could it be otherwise? This year, both our tributes are the children of beloved victors.

"I hope you won't mind, if I stay a little bit longer to train," says Gavriel.

"Some extra training won't hurt, that's for sure," I reply.

Gavriel Asterin has received a first-rate training. He has learned to handle any kind of weapon- from daggers to spears- but also strategy, survival skills, and the basis of psychology. Strength alone isn't enough to win, after all. Sometimes, knowing your enemy is far more useful than a common weapon. I remember the day his father enrolled him. "Train him like no other," he ordered me. Actually, his father has invested lots of money in the academy, so much that he has become its principal, so I couldn't tell my boss that every trainee has the right to receive the same treatment.

"What do you think of him?" asks a voice behind my back.

I wince. I didn't hear him come.

"I thought nothing could catch you off guard, Markus, you, old fox!" he comments, amused. It's Anacond Asterin, the father of Gavriel. Speak of the devil…

"He's ready to fight," I say, focusing back on Gavriel.

"I hope he's also ready to win," he replies in a rather serious tone, his eyes lit by the same sinister glint as his son's.

Sometimes, I wonder if Anacond cares about his son. He has made him train since he was but an infant for the sole purpose of winning the Hunger Games. Gavriel's life has been entirely dedicated to weapons. One could say that Gavriel himself is a weapon. There's no room for anything else, not even for friends. Once, I heard that he had a crush on a younger girl, but, when I asked him about her, he just shrugged and kept on training the whole day, till he dropped to the ground, burned out. I'm pretty sure his father wouldn't approve any affair before the Games. After all, Anacond himself started dating girls only after his victory. And I know it because he's of my same age, we attended the academy together. Practically, Anacond is turning his son into his dead ringer.

"Gavriel is one of the best trainees I've ever seen. Besides, as son of two victors, he'll certainly get sponsors. The 76th Hunger Games are meant to confirm Capitol's victory, so it's highly probable that a Career wins, especially if the Career in question is the child of two loyal victors," I point out.

"We cannot base his victory on probabilities!" he rebuts.

"That's true. But, as I said, Gavriel is an excellent trainee; he'll suffer no rival, if he plays his cards right."

"And what about the female tribute?"

Diana Warrior has been selected this year. Her mother is a victor of the Hunger Games. To be sincere, she's skilled and resourceful, but there are a couple of girls who would make better tributes than her. The reason why I've voted for Diana is her mother's victory. Normally, I would choose otherwise, but the 76th Hunger Games won't be a normal edition. Under such circumstances, having two popular tributes can really make the difference.

"Mr. Asterin, I am a trainer, my duty is selecting the best tributes for the Games. Your son and Diana Warrior are the best, that's all I can say," I answer, watching him right in the eye.

"But that won't save her life," Gavriel chimes in.

Neither me nor his father realized that he had stopped training until he spoke. Gavriel is now watching us with the upper corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk, his eyes lit by the usual sinister glint. He looks so self-confident, maybe too much, and I sincerely hope that his bravado is more than a mere mask doomed to fade away once in the arena.

…...

_Present day_

_Lokir Mistlyre (16)- Citizen of District 2_

I've spotted my preys: two little girls who are begging for food outside a bakery. It's been a little while since they've started hanging out in my territory, begging for food, or looking in trash cans. Unfortunately for them, I cannot let anyone put salt in my game. There's always some dummy who grows soft before those goo-goo eyes and gaunt faces… and there's always someone ready to use this… myself, in this case. They won't even hear me come, and when they'll realize the loaves of bread they got are missing, I'll be far away. All those years on the streets have paid off.

I start getting closer, but then I hear a noise behind my back. I immediately turn around, grabbing my jack-knife from my belt in one, fluid motion. The boy who was behind me holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Gavriel!" I say, a bit annoyed.

"Could you put it away?" he asks me, pointing my knife.

"What are you doing here?" I go on, while I'm doing what he asked me.

"You're always so diffident, are you? I've known you for years, and you've never started a conversation with _Hi, Gavriel! How are you?_" he complains.

"If you knew me like you said, you wouldn't try to approach me from behind my back," I point out.

"Touché," he replies, smiling.

"Tell me what you have to say, Gavriel! I have no time to waste!" I say, looking back at the two girls.

Gavriel shakes his head in disapproval. "Lokir, Lokir, Lokir… you always aim to little ones."

"I'm hungry!" I complain.

In response, he hands me a paper wrap.

"What's that?" I say, while I'm unwrapping it. Inside, there are two sandwiches with ham and eggs. "Where did you… oh, I forgot, you're a spoiled, rich daddy's boy!"

"I bought them this morning. I thought you would appreciate a decent meal," he explains, ignoring my last comment.

"Thank you," I whisper, and then I start wolfing down the sandwiches. They're really delicious.

"What did you say?" asks Gavriel with a smirk, drawing his ear closer to me, as if he didn't hear me for real.

"Thank you," I speak up, annoyed.

"You're welcome," he replies, amused.

At this stage, I decide to change the subject: "What about the Reaping? Do you still intend to volunteer?"

"Of course! What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lokir, don't play dumb with me, I know you'd like to…"

"I'm not the chosen tribute, and you know it. I don't attend the academy, after all, so what's the point of discussing?" I say, interrupting him.

"Lokir, you wouldn't have asked me to train you in secret, if you didn't want to volunteer. I know you'd like to face me in the arena, but that won't happen! When I win, I'll make you enrol, so that you will receive a proper training. You'll be selected for the Games in two years, and I'll be your mentor, I promise," he says, putting his hands on my shoulders.

I wince at his touch. Suddenly, it feels like my body has turned into ice. I flatten myself against the closest wall… yeah, like the wall of my old room… I still hear his steps approach, his heavy steps looming over me, while my heart is beating like a hammer in my chest. I'm shaking like a leaf. I'd like so badly to scream, but no sound escapes my throat.

"Lokir?"

I look up. Gavriel is watching me with a worried expression on his face. I cannot look away from his dark golden eyes, which seems to penetrate my mind. But then my attention is drawn by his hands, that are still leaning forward. They're rather reddish, with white knuckles slightly swollen.

"What have you done?" I ask him, pointing them.

"I've been training this morning," he answers with a shrug. By his tone, I can tell that he didn't want to change the subject.

"You always exaggerate, Gavriel… you hurt yourself, what for?" I remark.

"I'm just trying to go beyond my limits."

"Well, you're already a great fighter, you don't need to hurt yourself."

"I need to be the best, Lokir."

"That's silly!" I say, shaking my head.

"You worry about me, then, don't you?" he rebuts with a smirk.

I feel my cheeks turning red with rage… or is it embarrassment? "I don't worry about you, Gavriel, you're a grown man, you don't need a babysitter!"

That said, I turn around to see whether the two girls are still outside the bakery, but I'm not lucky. They're gone. I feel a mixture of rage and frustration seething in my stomach. I whirl, and punch Gavriel's shoulder.

"You made me lose my preys!" I protest.

He doesn't say anything in response, he just giggles while massaging his shoulder.

…...

_Present day_

_Gavriel Asterin (18)- Chosen tribute_

After talking to Lokir- oh, jeez, she punched me hard, but I've suffered much worse attacks than that- I go back home, to Victor's Village. It is located on the outskirts of the main town, but on the opposite side of the industrial zones, and towards the surrounding mountains ******, so that we can enjoy a bit of scenery away from the factories. On the threshold, I find my father waiting for me with his arms crossed.

"Where have you been?" he asks me in a menacing tone… at least, in a way _he_ thinks it's menacing. To be sincere, I find it ridiculous.

I snort. "I had a walk before the Reaping, that's all," I answer, shrugging.

"Umm… go get ready, you don't want to be late, do you?"

"Of course not."

When I enter my bedroom to choose my outfit, I find my mother, who is still wearing her pink nightgown. She has brought a silk, white shirt and a black tie from my closet.

"You could match these with those black pants," she offers.

"Mom, I'm eighteen! I can pick clothes myself!" I complain.

She sighs. "Today, there's the Reaping, so I had to give all servants the day off. This house is a mess! Please, Gavriel, don't work against me, not today, at least! Besides, this white shirt will bring out your tanned skin. Remember that the Capitol will be watching you from the Reaping, I want you to impress them all!"

"Consider it done, mom," I say, and then I sit on my bed, which has still to be made.

My mother is used to having an army of servants who do all the housework, but would it kill her, if she did something herself every now and then?

"What are you doing, Gavriel? You have to get ready for the Reaping!"

"I'm not going to undress in front of you."

"Oh, silly boy! Remember that I'm your mother!"

"You aren't ready neither, unless that frivolous nightgown is the last word in fashion," I point out with a subtle smirk.

In response, my mother leaves my room, mumbling. I wear the clothes she chose for me. There's no use in arguing for it, after all. I look at my reflection in the mirror. Not bad. I comb my bronze hair, so that it falls into my face from my overlong side fringe, slightly covering my right eye. Girls tend to find this hairstyle intriguing, except Lokir, just for a change. Impressing her is almost impossible… but who cares, after all? She always rejects my attention, but, after my victory, things will be different… after my victory, she will have to consider me, won't she?

When I'm finally ready, I head to the main square along with my parents. They are already talking about strategy, but I'm not listening to a word. I know what I have to do. Once in the square, I part from them, and reach my section. My parents mount the stage along with the other victors- those who have survived the war and Capitol's revenge… they aren't many, to be sincere, since most of them took part in the rebellion like Lyme, and were therefore executed as traitors. Luckily, the war is over, even if its spectre is still close in time to remind us how much a rebellion can cost. Only a year ago, District 2 was devastated, but everything has been rebuilt. Now, I can feel proud to represent my district in the Games.

My attention id drawn by the escort- a new one, apparently- who mounts the stage bouncing in her glossy, knee-long, purple boots with sky-high heels. How can she even think of walking in them?

"Welcome, District 2, welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games! We all went through a hard time last year, but we made it, eventually, and now we're stronger than ever!" she says.

The crowd cheers in response, but in a less enthusiastic way than the previous years.

"We are all eager to know the tributes of this year, I suppose. So, let's start with the boys this time!" continues the escort.

But I don't let her read the name of the reaped boy, since I immediately shout: "I volunteer as tribute!"

While I'm mounting the stage, I have a quick look at my parents: they're both smiling in approval.

"That's the spirit! What's your name?" the escort asks me.

"Gavriel Asterin," I answer.

"Oh, your family name is quite famous in the Capitol, my dear! You'll have no problem finding sponsors!" she remarks, nodding at my parents.

Then, she moves on to the girls. "Helena Tanks!"

"I volunteer!" two girls shout at the same time. One is Diana Warrior- the girl chosen by the academy- of course, and the other… oh, no, the other is Lokir!

"Out of my way, you, toddler!" shouts Diana.

Lokir is about to attack her, but some peacekeepers intervene to separate the two girls. That's when the escort chimes in, excited: "No, no, let them fight! District 2 is famous for its bellicose tributes, after all! What better way to establish who is really worth of representing it in the Hunger Games?"

The peacekeepers back off. The crowd makes room for the two girls.

"Let the fight begin!" adds the escort.

Diana attacks Lokir almost immediately. It's clear that she wants to end the fight as soon as possible. However, Lokir dodges all her attacks, and I find myself rooting for her… in silence, of course.

"Coward! You cannot flee forever!" shouts Diana, beside herself.

It's all part of Lokir's strategy, though. She gets her opponent on her nerves and, at the same time, makes her wear out. Occasionally, she pretends to be hit hard just to give the impression that she's weak, but, actually, Diana has only tapped her. At some point, Diana punches Lokir's cheek. Lokir falls to the ground. The fight seems to be over, but, as I'm looking at Lokir's green eyes, I understand that she's about to fight back, finally. In fact, she punches Diana repeatedly in her stomach… yeah, in this way her opponent is low on air. I feel proud, because it was me who taught her that trick. While Diana is still gasping for oxygen, Lokir punches her right in her face. Diana falls to the ground, unconscious. A peacekeeper drags her aside, whereas Lokir mounts the stage. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Diana's mother shakes her head in disappointment. As a victor of the Hunger Games, it's certainly a disgrace for her that her daughter was defeated.

"We have a winner! What's your name?" asks the escort.

"Lokir… Lokir Mistlyre," answers Lokir, panting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here are your tributes, Gavriel Asterin and Lokir Mistlyre! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Once in the Justice Building, we're assigned a private waiting room for visitors. My parents visit me. They immediately start talking about strategy… again. Besides, they advise me not to trust Lokir.

"She dared to stand up to the decision of the academy, that's outrageous!" says my father.

"Do you know who that girl is, Gavriel?" asks my mother.

"I've never seen her before," I lie.

"She's not a trainee, that's for sure. But don't worry, Gavriel, she's not equal to you. Her strategy was quite predictable. I must talk to the trainers who selected Mrs. Warrior; she wasn't the best after all, if defeating her is that easy," he comments.

"Anything else you need to tell me?" I ask them.

"What do you mean?" replies my mother.

"You won't see me for weeks… maybe you'd like to wish me luck, or give me a district token…" I offer.

"Your family name will be your token," rebuts my father.

"I see."

They carry on talking about strategy, recollecting how they won their Games. I've listened to their stories thousands of times! Despite their tips, I think that I'm going to ally with Lokir. I know well that she's a dangerous opponent, but she will die at the end. I wince at this thought… don't know why, but it disturbs me.

…...

_Lokir Mistlyre (16)- District 2 female tribute_

I've made it, I'm the female tribute of District 2! A better life is waiting for me- something for which I would sacrifice anything, even Gavriel's life, because it's worth it, isn't it? I'm ready to get rid of that spoiled, daddy's boy, am I not? Anyway, I don't expect to get any visits, but my father comes to see me, instead.

"Get out!" I immediately shout, scared stiff.

He gets closer to me, instead. "Lokir…"

"Get out!" I repeat, flattening myself against the wall.

"You have nothing to fear from me, I was so concerned when you ran away from home years ago. Where have you been?" he goes on in a mellifluous tone, caressing my cheek.

I wince at his touch. I'd like to slap him, but my body is paralyzed, as if it was made of ice.

"Leave me alone! It's not my fault if mom died!" I shout, as tears start flooding from my eyes.

"It is, instead, but you didn't do it on purpose, your poor mother died in childbirth, that's why I was able to forgive you. But, you know, I couldn't let you get away with that, you need to understand that what I did was for your own sake, to teach you a lesson…" he replies, getting even closer to me.

At this stage, I scream. Two peacekeepers break into the room.

"Please, take him away!" I shout.

They grab him, while he's squirming like crazy. "Lokir! Remember that I'm still your father!" he yells, beside himself.

"You've never been a father to me!" I yell back.

When I'm finally left alone, I keel over on the ground and cry. I thought that I'd never see him again… that I'd never relive that nightmare… instead… but then a thought dawns on me. Now, I'm a tribute of the Hunger Games. He cannot hurt me any longer, and when I'll win… when I'll win, I'll be able to get my revenge.

* * *

**So, the tributes of District 2 are Gavriel Asterin and Lokir Mistlyre, both submitted by _SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn_. To be sincere, I'll be happy to write about them in the following chapters, because they have certainly a great potential. What do you think of them? And of their relation to their parents? Do you think there could be a romance between them?**

**Let me know your opinions in your reviews, or PM me, if you want. Thank you for reading :)**

* * *

*** This character was introduced in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _chapter 4 (D2 Reaping)**

**** For a further description of District 2, see _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _chapter 4 (D2 Reaping)**


	6. D11: the Botanist and the Colour Blind

**Hi, everyone! I've finally managed to update also this fanfic. As you can see, ****_Divine Punishment _****is not yet closed, so you can still submit tributes (see the list on chapter 2 or on my bio). Submissions are still available also for ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _(sponsors)****. Just remember that submitters have some advantages, but, if you're not interested in submitting, you can still sponsor with your reviews. ****If you want to submit, the forms are on my profile. Please, follow them, otherwise I cannot accept your characters, and it's a pity. Thank you.**

**For the moment, enjoy the Reaping of District 11 :)**

* * *

_5 years ago_

_Livia Marigold (12)- Citizen of District 11_

Sometimes, my father works till late in the plant nursery he runs in town. And sometimes I help him… like tonight. It happens mainly over the summer, when school is out. I watch him, as he's sweeping the floor. He's wearing his usual baseball cap, which covers his deep green eyes and dark hair. He's forty-nine, but looks a bit older due to the deep wrinkles on his pale face. Life has not been easy for him. Since my mother's death, he has made sacrifices so that I could go to school. He told me she died of starvation. It's not that uncommon in Eleven, it's just odd in our case, since our plant nursery has always gone well. Luckily, I don't even need to sign up for tesserae. I know that my mother didn't die of starvation for real, but I've never asked my father to tell me the truth. He loved her so much, I don't want him to feel bad.

"We're done for today, Livia," he says, eventually.

"Really? I'm not even tired," I reply.

That's true. I like raising and taking care of plants, I hardly consider it a job. I like the quiet atmosphere of our nursery, this little corner of paradise.

"I don't find that hard to believe, dearie, but look at the clock… it's almost midnight," he says with a smile.

I snort, and follow him outside. The next instant, he locks the nursery. We live not far away, so we can go home by foot, which I don't mind. At this hour, District 11 is completely asleep. You can only hear our steps and the creaking of cicadas. No wonder that people go to bed early, when they have to get up at dawn to work in the orchards. Anyway, I like the peace of night. To be sincere, I've never been able to stand crowded, noisy places.

"Is it me or does it smell of smoke?" my father asks me, at some point.

He's right, it does smell of smoke. I can also hear the crackle of flames, and see the light they emanate in the distance.

"Why should anyone start a fire at this hour?" I ask him.

"No idea," he answers. By his tone, I can tell that he's worried.

At some point, he starts running ahead.

"Why are you running?" I ask him, but he doesn't answer.

Suddenly, a terrible thought dawns on me like a bolt from the blue. My father is running towards home! Does it mean that the fire comes from our house?

I follow him. He has stopped right in front of our house, panting. Oh, good heavens! It is truly on fire! Tongues of fire are licking and scorching it all. Even from where I stand, I can feel their searing heat on my face. How could this happen? Our poor house in flames! We have to find some water, and tame the fire!

Suddenly, my father starts running again… right towards the burning house!

"No! Daddy!" I shout.

I know why he's running. My mother left him a letter before dying. I've never read it, but I know that it means a lot to my father. Therefore, I cannot hesitate. I must run after him!

Once inside the house, the heat is unbearable. I don't know where I'm going, since the roaring flames have engulfed all, I just keep walking at random. In which room am I? Is it the kitchen or the living room? I feel trapped. My body burns so much that I start wondering whether I've been turned into a creature of fire myself.

"Daddy!" I try to shout, but smoke immediately fills my mouth.

I start coughing. I try to lean on a wall, because I'm about to lose balance, but a flame reaches my right hand. I'd like to scream in pain, but smoke is slowly choking me. My sight is blurred, and my head spins. I have to go out! But I cannot leave my father here!

"Daddy!" I shout with a hoarse voice. No answer.

Suddenly, the ceiling starts falling apart. It's a miracle I can avoid its falling pieces. I cannot stay here any longer! I start running in the direction I came… in the right direction, I hope. After what seems like an eternity, I manage to get out. I stumble, and fall to the ground. The next instant, someone picks me up, and gets me to safety.

"Daddy…" I whisper, but, when my vision clears, I can see that it was a stranger who saved me, and not my father.

The stranger is talking to me, but I can't hear a word. The contact between my burning body and his fresh hands makes me wince. I have a quick look at my right hand, and notice that it's covered by horrible blisters. It burns so much that I cannot even move it. I'd like to cry in pain, but my eyes are too dry due to the fire. I feel faint.

_Daddy… where are you, daddy? _I think, and then everything goes dark...

…...

_The day before the Reaping_

_Ilo Carter (27)- Citizen of District 11_

I flip the sign at the door from "open" to "closed". Then, I go to the back of my art shop, where Lavender is about to finish his last project. He has a preference for face paint, but he has decided for a picture, this time. He's painting some people who are working in the orchards. They look happy, there's no peacekeeper in sight… that's why they're happy, I suppose. Lavender has painted only in black, white, and grey. On the whole, his picture looks like a melancholic, old photograph. I like it.

Lavender is colour blind, he cannot see any colours since birth... well, not exactly any colours. It seems that people like him can recognize some shades of blue, indeed. In any case, I often help him pick colours by assigning every shade a number with arrows pointing at the specific spot where that shade is needed. Since he first set foot in my shop, I've immediately understood that art is part of his soul. To me, Lavender has become the little brother I've never had.

"This picture is wonderful, Lavender. As always, you're able to convey emotions with few colours," I compliment him.

"Ilo…"

"Yes?"

"How could you do it?" he asks me.

"Do what?"

"I mean… how could you face all those Reapings?"

When Lavender turned twelve, the third Quarter Quell was announced, and the twist was that only victors could compete. As a consequence, he was spared, so this year it's his first Reaping at all, even if he's now thirteen. He must be scared.

"It was hard… truly hard… seeing two innocent kids be taken away year after year. But you should try to be indifferent, and, at some point, you start thinking that better them than me, because there's nothing else you can do," I reply, shaking my head.

"One could volunteer," he offers.

"But that wouldn't change anything… two lives will be shattered forever, in any case," I rebut.

"Did you lose someone you loved?" he goes on.

I sigh. "Everyone has lost someone… but… let's talk about something brighter!"

"Like what?"

"What are you going to do after the Reaping?" I ask him.

"Why?" he asks back, curious.

"Well, I don't have to work tomorrow, so… maybe… we could start a new project together. What do you think?" I offer.

Lavender is now beaming with joy. "That would be great! We could paint another picture, or… no! No pictures, this time! Face paint! I've already got an idea…"

"Hey, hey, hey… pull yourself together, Lavender. Don't you remember what I taught you? First of all, collect your ideas; then, choose a subject and focus on it," I say, interrupting him.

"Yeah, yeah… I'll think about it tonight!" he replies, excited.

"No, tonight you need to sleep, otherwise you'll look like a zombie tomorrow morning. Your mother would scold both of us… you 'cause you didn't sleep, and me... 'cause you didn't sleep," I rebut.

He giggles in response.

"Laugh it up, but your mother can be very severe at times."

That's not exactly true. Cassandra Sunnart is just protective. She's a very supportive mother to Lavender. Luckily, she has never hampered his innate passion for art. She just tells off me, when Lavender comes back home with his clothes or face smeared. I think that she sees me as another son, deeper down. In her place, I would be protective as well. Lavender… I don't know… he can win you in no time, but you immediately understand how fragile he is too. You can't help but try to protect him somehow.

"Anyway, we'll think of what to do tomorrow. Okay?" I add, eventually.

"Okay," he replies with a wide smile.

…...

_Present day_

_Livia Marigold (17)- Citizen of District 11_

The light that comes from the window wakes me up. I yawn and stretch. I'd like to stay in bed a little bit longer, but I can't. Well, this is not exactly a bed, it's just and old mattress a neighbour gave me, but I don't mind. I get up. First of all, I have to feed my pets: my three dogs- Lily, Sage, Vanilla- and my cat Spook. Lily is a short, white and brown dog with wiry hair and pointed ears. One of her eyes is missing, the other is brown. Sage is a mix breed. She has a fluffy, golden fur and brown eyes. At the moment, she has a broken paw due to a fight with a stray dog. Luckily, the vet told me she will recover soon. Vanilla is a white Pitbull with brown eyes. She's definitely the most gluttonous of my pets. Last but not least, Spook is a stray, ginger kitten. I'm worried about him, he hasn't eaten anything for days and, when he eats, he immediately pukes. I'll take him to the vet as soon as possible.

I love my pets, they have kept me company since… five years ago, a fire destroyed my house. I made it out, but my father didn't. Pain fades, but it can leave scars. My right hand was heavily burnt, I cannot use it any longer. Luckily, I'm ambidextrous. My house was never rebuilt, that's why I've moved to the plant nursery. This place has become my home and my life. I sleep in the little room that adjoins the greenhouse, and that I use also to receive my customers. I attend school in the morning, and work in the afternoon. Being so busy all the time, I haven't got any real friends, but I don't mind. I've got my job and my pets, and that's enough for me.

I have a meagre breakfast- just two slices of bread with a little olive oil on them- because I can't really eat much at the moment, my stomach's in a knot. Today, it's Reaping day. It took me a while to get the nursery started again after the devastation brought about by the war. I still need to sign up for tesserae- as I did last month- because I invest all the money I earn in the nursery... as a consequence, I've got many extra slips with my name in the Reaping ball. I can't help but worry about it. If I got reaped, who would look after my pets? Who would look after the nursery? Ah, I'm not going into the Hunger Games! Just two more years, and I'll be safe!

I get dressed. Since I'm going to go back to the nursery immediately after the Reaping, I'll choose what I usually wear at work, except for the apron- a long-sleeved, mint green shirt, black shorts, black gloves, and striped, pale blue boots. No one is supposed to work today, but what else could I do?

I go to the main square by foot. The streets are slowly filling with people, but an unnatural silence reigns. Many would find it awkward or frightening, but I don't. I like silence, it helps me relax. But when I eventually get to the square, the situation is different. People are chatting animatedly, and the place is chock-a-block. I hate crowded places, but I can't avoid them, this time. I reach my section, which is the second one starting from the stage in front of the towering Justice Building. I spot some of my classmates around me, but, for the rest, all the seventeen-year-olds are perfect strangers to me. The mayor of Eleven mounts the stage, and gives a brief speech, then it's the escort's turn. I gape when I see her. Normally, Capitolites want to look young at all costs, but this woman… she looks older than she is! She's wearing a curly, pearl white wig, round glasses, and a white and blue pantsuit made of tartan.

"Hello, District 11! My name is Vanilla Domitilla, and I'll be your escort for this year!" she chirps, putting emphasis on every word she utters, as if she was speaking to illiterates.

I don't know if I should feel offended, or just burst out laughing, because the escort has the same name of my Pitbull.

"Now, let's go down to business! We have no time to waste, after all!" she goes on, while approaching the girls' ball.

She picks up a slip of paper at random, without even looking at what she's doing. How can she be so indifferent? "Livia Marigold!"

No… it can't be… that's my name… she called my name! With trembling legs, I leave my section, and mount the stage.

"Welcome onstage, Livia! And now, for the boys… Lavender Sunnart!"

As soon as the escort calls the name of my district partner, you hear a woman cry from the crowd. His mother, I suppose. I watch him, as he's mounting the stage. He has fluffy, ashy blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. On the left side of his face, there are some butterflies painted. He's wearing a light blue sweatshirt with two white stripes across it, denim jeans, and white boots with paint on them. Definitely not a typical citizen of District 11... not that I'm a typical citizen of this district myself.

"Dear citizens of Eleven, I give you your tributes… Livia Marigold and Lavender Sunnart! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" says the escort, eventually.

Once in the Justice Building, we're assigned a private waiting room for visitors, but I don't expect to get any. It's a simple room with whitewashed walls, a couple of blue couches, and a window with bars. I peer out the window, and see some peacekeepers keep watch. They have to make sure tributes don't try to escape. I feel trapped. What will happen to my pets? What will happen to my plant nursery? For the first time in so long, I feel alone and powerless. This thought makes me cry. I've made sacrifices to get a decent life, but it was all useless, I'm not going to come back.

Suddenly, someone puts their hand on my shoulder. I wince with fear. I turn around, and see that it's the old Helen- a neighbour. She has a concerned expression on her face.

"How are you, kid?" she asks me.

"Why are you here?" I ask back, wiping away my tears.

"I thought you would appreciate my visit," she answers.

"Yes, I do, but… why? We never speak together…"

She sighs. "Being associated with your family could be dangerous, you know, after what your mother did…"

"What did she do?" I ask, interrupting her.

She stares at me, unbelieving. "I thought… I though your father told you," she says, embarrassed.

"Told what?" I insist.

"Nothing important."

"No, you have to speak, now!"

"Your mother was a rebel," she says, after a pause.

"No way! She died when I was only three!" I rebut.

"The rebellion had started long before Katniss Everdeen made her appearance. Nothing concrete… people were just planning to do something. In any case, your father lied to you. When you were three, he just took you away, but your mother was still alive, at the time," she explains.

"She would never abandon me!"

"She had to. Your father thought that her involvement would put you at risk, and he was right. Your mother died during the rebellion. In any case, I don't think the name of Glory Marigold is that notorious in the Capitol, but be careful anyway, they will never let a rebel's child win."

"Knowing nothing would be better, then… I must thank you, anyway. Please, take care of my pets and my nursery, while I'm away. I have no one else to ask."

"I'll do my best," she replies with a reassuring smile.

…...

_Lavender Sunnart (13)- District 11 male tribute_

It can't be true. I've been reaped, I'm going into the Hunger Games. That's cruel! That's unfair! I'm too young to die! I've got so many ideas… so many works of art to make before. I curl up in one of the couches of the waiting room, and cry. It's not even very comfortable, the fabric is quite rough. Great. Anything to make tributes feel worse than they already do.

The door bursts open, and my mother enters the room, teary. I've already heard her cry at the Reaping, when my name was called. It was impossible not to hear her, since the whole square was dead silent.

"Oh, my son!" she says, hugging me.

I can feel her crystal, lotus pendant on my chest.

I keep quiet. I don't know what to say. Making impossible promises would be pointless and cruel. I don't stand a chance to survive and see her again. But I must find something to tell her, I cannot leave her like that!

"Mom…" I whisper.

She breaks her embrace, and watches me right in the eye. Oh, I've always wished I could see the colour of her eyes! Once, she told me they're light blue... but the're too light for me to distinguish their shade from what I perceive as white. Anyway, it's not the same as seeing their colour for real.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"I love you," I say, and then I burst into tears again.

"Oh, Lavender… I love you too… I'm proud of you, and I know that I'll see you soon," she replies with a sad smile.

"No, mom…"

"Shhh… this not a farewell, remember that."

After she's gone, Ilo comes to visit me. He's teary too, but tries to hide it.

"Lavender… we haven't much time… I just want you to know that you're the little brother I've never had, and that I'm rooting for you. Don't give up on your life just because you're among the youngest!" he says.

"Thank you, Ilo, but we both know how things stand," I reply.

"Don't speak like that! Only losers speak like that, and that's not your case! They will certainly underestimate you, but this can be an advantage. Find some good allies, and try to survive. Remember that I'll be waiting for you to start that new project together," he retorts.

"I should collect my ideas, then."

"That would help. By the way, take this… it's the brush you used for your last work. It was meant as a small present that I wanted to give you after the Reaping, but now it will be your district token," he says, giving me the brush.

"Oh, Ilo, this is the best present you could give me!" I reply, and then hug him as tight as I can.

* * *

**Okay, here we have other two tributes ready to be sent to the Capitol, Livia Marigold and Lavender Sunnart by _Nightshade494_. What do you think of them? Could their conditions penalize them in the Games? Please, answer these questions in your reviews, I'm curious to know what you think. **

**Thank you for reading :)**


	7. D1: the Cold-Hearted and the Rebel's Son

**Hi, everyone! Sorry, I know it's been a while since my last update, but I'm really really busy at the moment; one does what one can. I hope I'll be able to update more frequently, since we're almost done with the Reapings of _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon, _and it must be said that also _Divine Punishment _is slowly taking shape. Thanks to everyone who's submitted so far! **

**Enjoy your reading :)**

* * *

_The day before the Reaping_

_Logan Prime (18)- Citizen of District 1_

I watch Honey, while she's working out in the academy's gym. Since she's going to volunteer for the Hunger Games tomorrow, she has been allowed to train overtime. She's now throwing javelins- which are one of her favourite weapons- against the dummies scattered across the gym. Her curly, honey blonde hair moves like a lion's mane, as she's getting ready to hit the target. Her ice blue eyes sinisterly shine with a predator satisfaction every time she hits a dummy at a deadly point- its stomach, its heart, or its head. Her aim is perfect, I wouldn't trade places with the tributes who will face her and die.

"You don't need to wait for me," Honey tells me, at some point.

"Oh, I don't mind waiting, when I'm with you," I reply with a shrug.

She throws another javelin… WHAM… and hits the dummy's head, making it roll around on the floor.

"I dumped you long ago, Logan, why are you still here?"

"I love you, Honey."

"But I don't… I never have," she retorts, while throwing another javelin.

WHAM!

"You hurt me, Honey," I say.

"Don't play the victim! That's how it is! You don't want me to pretend just to please you, do you?"

WHAM!

"No, I don't," I admit.

"If I were you, Logan, I wouldn't waste time with her," a third person chimes in.

I turn around. My brother Skinner has entered the gym. Honey immediately blushes in a quite noticeable manner. Does she still feel something for him? Even after what he has done to her?

She tries to ignore him by focusing on her exercise, but she misses the target, this time.

"You'd better work on your aim," suggests Skinner, smirking.

"You don't need to tell me what to do!" she replies, annoyed.

"Well, if you volunteer- and I'm sure you will- your life will be in _my_ hands. You'd better follow my advice, I've been in the Games, you not yet," he points out with an amused smile on his lips.

He's right. My brother won the 72nd Hunger Games. He has certainly more experience than Honey. However, I don't like his superior attitude.

"Why don't we let her train on her own?" I offer.

"Good idea. Besides, we have guests for dinner, so we'd better go home," he replies.

We leave the academy.

"Who's coming for dinner?" I ask Skinner, as soon as we're alone.

"Nobody," he answers with a shrug.

"But you said…"

"It was just an excuse to take you away from that bitch," he explains.

"Don't call her like that!"

"Sorry, lovebird, but that's the truth. Have you got an idea of how many boyfriends she dumped after you?"

"It's your fault, if she's become like that! You have broken her heart… and now… and now she's so cold-hearted and calculating! You shouldn't have left her for her cousin!" I blurt with rage.

"What can I say? Sugar is a nicer girl… sugar is much sweeter than honey, after all," he says.

How witty he believes he is! "You'll never change," I comment, shaking my head.

…...

_The day before the Reaping_

_Zinc Walstorm (16)- Citizen of District 1_

People tend to imagine District 1 as a sort of second Capitol City, a dazzling paradise where everyone lives in luxury. But it's not like that. Poverty exists also in One, and the situation cannot improve quickly after a devastating war. The only… let's say… positive side of being poor there is that you can take out tesserae more carelessly than in other districts, because you know that there will always be a bloodthirsty idiot willing to volunteer for you, in case you get reaped. I've lost all my family due to the war, so I've needed tesserae to survive. Luckily, I have the help of Tricia, who lives with me now, even though we're neither related nor engaged. We're just good friends. We live in a rented apartment on the outskirts, where you can see only old, dingy block of flats. Nothing to do with the shining skyscrapers of Capitol City.

At the moment, Tricia and I are coming back home after doing the shopping. The sun has already set, but the sky is still light.

At some point, she sighs. "Prices have gone up again… if this goes on, we won't be able to buy even a piece of bread," she comments, grimly.

"We don't need much food to survive," I reply.

"Yeah, to _survive_, but to _live_…"

"The situation was much worse than that during the war."

She sighs again. "Sometimes, I wonder… I wonder what life is like in other districts."

"Would you like to move? To leave your home district? You could sign up to the Repopulation Project…" I offer.

To be sincere, I've been dwelling on this possibility myself. President Smith has launched this project to promote demographic growth. It consists of sending people- mainly war orphans and homeless- to the most depopulated districts. For a start, you're guaranteed a small amount of money, which is doubled, if you start a new family. But If you're an orphan and not yet over eighteen, there must be someone willing to adopt you there. That's why I desisted. Families tend to adopt only small children. Many of my age or even younger tried, but they didn't get the permission.

"I don't want to be adopted, I'd rather start a new life myself," she rebuts.

"You'd just need to wait a couple of years, then. I could come with you."

"But Iron wouldn't. We cannot abandon him. Besides, we might be sent to different districts, and I wouldn't stand that."

Iron Rattler is one of our best friends. He's an orphan like Tricia and me, but he has gone live with his boyfriend Osmium and his family. I'm pretty sure Tricia feels something for him, but she doesn't dare to confess it, not even to me.

When we turn the corner, I notice that a group of boys is standing right outside the front door of our block of flats. Another boy is on the ground… those cowards must have beaten him. He stands up with difficulty… but it's Iron! Tricia and I immediately run towards him.

"Haven't you had enough, you rebel piece of trash?" asks one of the boys- their leader, I suppose.

"What's going on here?" I shout.

"Zinc… Tricia… go away," begs Iron.

"Oh, looks like someone wants to rescue fatty," comments the leader, amused.

I'd like to punch him right in the face, but Tricia holds me.

"He just got what he deserves," he goes on, shrugging.

"You're no one to decide!" I rebut, beside myself.

"Lucky for him. If it were up to me, all rebels' children would be dead now. Nevertheless, no one can stop me from teaching him to know his place," he replies.

That said, he looks at Iron in a manner that reveals what he thinks of him: Iron is just a nobody to him.

I take advantage of his momentary distraction to free myself from Tricia's hold, and punch him right in the face.

"No! Zinc!" she shouts, but it's too late, I hit my target.

Luckily, some tenants has come out to see what's going on, so the boys flee. Tricia and I help Iron inside. Our block of flats is an old building with yellowish papering on its walls. In some points, the papering has fallen off, or is about to do so, but no one seems to care. It's devoid of elevator, so we have to climb the stairs. We live on the fourth floor. Once in our apartment, Tricia treats Iron's wounds- nothing serious, just some bruises.

"We've told you many times not to come here, that's a bad neighbourhood," I scold him.

"I don't care, you're my only friends," he replies.

"Your face is quite known, Iron, you should be more careful," I go on.

"We can call in on you," adds Tricia.

"Yes, mammy and daddy… but you know that his parents don't like you very much," he rebuts.

"Just his parents, or Osmium as well?" she enquires, defiant.

"I don't want to make trouble, that's all!" he replies, a bit annoyed.

"They've accepted you in their house, but they'll never forget what your parents did," I point out, grimly.

Blue Rattler- Iron's father- was a rebel commander. After the war, he was executed along with his wife Iridescence, even though she was not directly involved in the rebellion. Like his mother, Iron is innocent, but the society won't forget his roots. It's a burden that Iron will bear for the rest of his life.

…...

_Present day_

_Honey Valli (18)- Citizen of District 1_

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the 76th annual Hunger Games, Honey Valli from District 1!" says the Master of Ceremonies._

_I mount the stage, where a cheering crowd is waiting for me. I'm wearing a long dress covered by golden sequins, and a pearly diadem on my head. The interview doesn't last too long. I focus on how much I deserved to win, and on how proud I am to be a victor for my district. Then, the moment for which I've been waiting so eagerly arrives: the crowning. President Smith places a golden crown on my head. I'm so excited that my whole body is shaking like a leaf._

_"Congratulations, Miss Valli," he says. He seems to be sincerely happy for me._

_But seeing the annoyed face of Skinner when he's forced to congratulate me as well is definitely the icing on the cake…_

…I wake up with a smile on my lips. It was just a dream, but it will come true soon. I look around. My room is in a mess. Last night, I emptied my closet, looking for the most suitable outfit to wear at the Reaping. Eventually, I've decided for a short, sleeveless, light pink dress matched with a black, leather jacket, light stockings, and black ankle boots. I don't have time to clean up now. I comb my hair in a simple bun. I want to look both attractive and threatening… in other words, a _femme fatale_.

I descend the stairs. The house is silent, except for my steps and the ticking of the wall clock in the kitchen. My parents must have left already… as usual. I have breakfast- crispbread with honey, a cup of milk, and some cookies- on my own. I don't mind eating alone, I've got used to it. My parents don't pay much attention to me, but today they will. Today, everyone will keep their eyes fixed on me.

After finishing breakfast, I go out, and head to the main square. Once there, I join the other eighteen-year-olds in the front section. As I'm crossing the square, I notice that several boys turn around to look at me. I can't help a smirk. Many find me attractive, but I don't really care about what they think. The truth is that I don't want to think seriously about boys until I win. In the meantime, Zenith Valli- the mayor of District 1, a.k.a. my father- has mounted the stage to start the Reaping. He makes a useless, introductory speech, and then reads the Treaty of Treason. This ceremony is carried out in the same way year after year. It's silly, but it's also the first occasion for Panem to see the future victor. After reading the treaty, my father introduces Rika, the escort from the Capitol. She's wearing a simple, black jumpsuit, which can hardly be distinguished from her dyed black skin. Her eyes are blue, the same shade of her curly wig and eyeshadow.

"Hello, District 1! I hope you're all enjoying this wonderful, sunny day, because the circumstances that bring me here are not the best desirable," she says in a normal tone, without the usual high-pitched accent one would expect from a Capitolite. "Once again, we witnessed a terrible rebellion and a terrible war. Once again, we're here to highlight the importance of the Hunger Games, hoping that history won't repeat itself," she goes on- wow, she's not the typical, enthusiastic escort, she sounds almost sad and forlorn.

At a quick pace, she approaches the girls' ball.

"I volunteer!" I immediately shout, and proudly mount the stage.

I don't even look at my father. This is my moment.

"A volunteer from District 1, not a great surprise. What's your name?"

"Honey Valli. Remember this name, because it will make history!" I reply, ignoring the escort's comment about volunteers.

"I see. A self-confident Career, another predictable thing."

Now it is 100% certain: she wants to get me on my nerves! But I decide to keep quiet, yelling at an escort is not exactly a good beginning.

Without any further ado, she picks up a slip of paper from the boys' ball. "Iron Rattler!"

I know this name, everyone in One does. My district partner is the son of a rebel commander. After the war, there was a great debate about whether the children of prominent rebels should be executed along with their parents. Eventually, they decided to spare their lives. But fate is a cruel mistress. Iron Rattler has been reaped for the Hunger Games, and I'm pretty sure he won't win. They cannot let him win. Better for me, one less threat.

"Does anyone want to volunteer?" asks the escort.

No one answers. Who would volunteer for a rebel, after all?

"Very well, then. The tributes of District 1 are Honey Valli and Iron Rattler! As always, happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Once in the Justice Building, we part. Each tribute is assigned a separate waiting room, in case someone wants to say goodbye to them. Another silly ritual, in my opinion. If you succeed, you see your relatives again. if you fail, you die, and there's nothing your family can do to avoid it. I'm just wasting my time, no one will come, and I don't want to see anybody. With this conviction, I open the door... but I was wrong, someone has come: Logan and my best friend Cordillera.

"What are you doing here?" I ask them, baffled.

"Goodbyes inside the room," says the peacekeeper at the door.

We all walk into the waiting room.

"I don't want to listen to wailing, or to silly demands like _promise that you'll do your best_," I immediately clarify.

"We came just to say goodbye," replies Logan.

"And wish you good luck," adds Cordillera.

"So you think that I can't make it myself, I have to rely on luck."

"That's not what I meant," she says.

"You're a great fighter, Honey, but a bit of luck might be good," he points out.

"Please, Honey, don't reject those who still love you," she begs.

Cordillera has always been by my side, no matter how much I've tried to push her away. She can be so stubborn at times, but I have to admit that she's one of the few people who haven't disappointed me. Not yet, at least.

"Thank you for coming, but seriously… I'm fine, I'm exactly where I want to be. I don't need to be comforted," I say, nonetheless.

"We know that you're strong," she replies with a sad smile.

"My brother is unforgivable, but he's not stupid. He'll do anything he can to help you… at least, if he's cleverer than he looks," adds Logan, smiling as well.

Despite myself, I giggle at this.

…...

_Iron Rattler (14)- District 1 male tribute_

I have been reaped. I have been reaped. I keep repeating it over and over in my head, because I can't believe it has truly happened. It was fate, then. My father fought against the Capitol and its cruel Games, he lost, and now I'm going to die due to the same cruel Games he hated. If my life wasn't at stake, I would smile… but it would be a bitter smile, in any case.

The door of the waiting room opens. Tricia and Zinc enter. They're both crying. They know that I have no hope. I'm the son of a rebel, they'll never let me win. We hug.

When we break our embrace, they're still crying like babies. _Please, stop_…

"Iron…" says Zinc under his breath.

I know what he wants to say. He thinks that he should have broken our promise not to volunteer for each other, in case one of us gets reaped. I'm glad he didn't. If there's something worse than getting reaped, that's seeing your best friend die, knowing that you should have been at his place.

"You don't need to say anything, Zinc," I tell him, patting his shoulders.

He lowers his gaze, clenching his fists, while his body is shaking with sobs. He must feel powerless. "That's… that's unfair… you're innocent, you just wanted to live…"

I put my hands on his shoulders. "There's nothing we can do. But I won't go down without a fight, I assure you!"

"Give them hell, will you?" Tricia chimes in, teary.

"I will."

When they're gone, I'm left alone just for few seconds before Osmium enters the room. He's crying too. We made the same promise I made with Zinc, and luckily he kept his word as well.

I gently wipe away his tears with my fingers. "Hey, I don't want that my last memory of you is your tears," I tell him.

"Don't talk like that, I'm sure I'll see you again," he replies.

I smile, and kiss his forehead. "Maybe in another life."

"Don't give up, Iron!"

"The Capitol cannot let a rebel win, and you know it," I point out.

He winces. Osmium and his parents are loyalists- people who didn't rebel, because they truly believe in the Capitol. But I cannot do the same. I'm a rebel's son, and nothing will ever change it. This has created some friction between Osmium and me, but we have overcome it. Anyway, he finds it annoying when someone speaks evil of the Capitol.

"Sorry, babe, that's how it is," I say with a shrug.

"Maybe… maybe if you showed them that you're not a rebel, you'd stand a chance. They won't condemn you for what your parents did," he offers.

"I can try," I say.

Then, I kiss him, but, deeper down, I know that I'm already doomed, and I need all my self-control to avoid crying, because even a single tear would, in Osmium's eyes, betray my true feelings.

* * *

**So, we can say that District 1 has an intriguing couple of tributes, in the sense that it has two opposites this year: on one side, Honey Valli, the Career girl by _AmazonWarrior04_; on the other side, Iron Rattler, the rebel's son by _santiagoponcini20_. Anyway, their fate is not yet sealed, and I hope you will support them during the Games. Can you make predictions of their behaviour or of their actions?**

**Thank you a lot for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate your contribution :) **


	8. D3: the Positive and the Enigma

**Hi, everyone! As promised, here's the Reaping of District 3. I will upload also the Reaping of Four as soon as possible, and then go on with ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_****. Before we start, let me thank you for your support to both my stories, it really helps. **

**And now, enjoy your reading :)**

* * *

_Last year_

_Dorah Asyn (17)- Citizen of District 3_

The war lasted only some months, but they were sufficient to bring about death and devastation in all of Panem. Today is my mother's funeral. She was not a rebel, yet her life was not spared. Actually, my family has always supported the Capitol, since they helped us with my hyperactivity. They were the only ones who gave us the right diagnosis; if one listened to Three's incompetent doctors, half of the population would end up in mental hospitals.

The service was quite simple, and I appreciate it. Ma' wouldn't want a pompous funeral. To be honest, we can feel lucky to have a grave to bring a flower to; many corpses are still missing, many others couldn't be identified and, therefore, were given a common burial. How to go through such a spectacle of death? By thinking positive. Life has to go on, and it will, whether we accept it or not. That's what I try to tell my little cousin Jordan, who's crying desperately beside me, because he lost both his parents in the war. We will look after him, my father and I.

"Come on, your parents wouldn't want to see you cry," I whisper to him, while we're walking past their graves.

A drizzle is now starting to fall over the crowded graveyard. Even if I'm wearing warm clothes, it makes me shiver. Jordan stops, and kneels down beside his parents' graves. He touches the recently-dug earth, as if he was trying to reach them in its depths. I put my hand on his shoulder, but remain upright.

"Jordan," I gently call him.

He doesn't answer. His eyes are dropped, his whole body is shaking like a leaf. I can feel his sorrow, it is mine as well. But someone has to stay strong.

"We'd better leave, it's raining," I go on.

"You can go, if you want, I'll stay here," he replies with a quivering voice.

He doesn't even look up from the ground.

"We'll return tomorrow, when the weather's better, okay?" I offer.

"I'll stay here," he repeats.

"If you stay here, you'll get sick, and you won't be able to visit them."

He seems to consider this for a moment. When he finally stands up, and watches me with his reddened eyes, I can tell by his gaze that he gave up. His knees are smeared, so I try to clean them as good as I can, but the only result I get is that now my hands are smeared too. In the meantime, Jordan has never taken his eyes off me. It's a bit creepy.

"You didn't cry, why?" he enquires, while we're heading home.

"I don't know," I reply.

"Are you indifferent?"

"Not at all! That's just another way of suffering."

I'm not indifferent, I do suffer. I don't know why, but I've always been able to distance myself from mourning. Maybe it's just because I ardently hope that I'll see again those I lost, one day. After all, death is a fact of life, it's just a threshold to walk through.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asks me.

"People react differently to the same situation. Not everyone expresses their grief by crying, someone just prefers keeping it inside," I explain.

"Does it hurt? I mean, keeping it inside…"

"It hurts in any case."

"And when does it stop hurting?"

"Never entirely. One learns to live with it, that's why it appears less painful."

"And how can I learn it?"

"You'll need time," I answer with a sad smile. "When you lose someone you love, you suffer, because you cannot see them any longer. But they won't abandon you for real, as long as you don't forget about them, okay?"

"I could never forget about them," he replies, wiping away his tears.

"You'll make it then, and I'll help you. We can do anything together."

"Thank you, Dorah."

…...

_Some months before the Reaping  
_

_Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17)- Citizen of District 3_

Winter has been particularly pitiless this year. Every limb of my body is shaking like a leaf, as I'm wandering through the market, wearing only a hoodie and a pair of worn jeans. I should wear something warmer, if I had any… but that can be easily remedied. People sell anything at the market, from food to clothes, one has just to wait for the right moment to take action. Basically, the stuff they sell here is the waste of the rich, but I don't mind. The most important thing to do is causing enough distraction, so that I can grab what I need, and sneak off unnoticed. I have to be careful, though; there are some peacekeepers here and there, and, since my face is known, I risk getting recognized.

Hood on, I walk past the drop site, dropping a lit match. Then, I speed up my pace. My rucksack is open, hanging from only one of my shoulders. My hands are itchy with eagerness. Suddenly, the poppers I hid where I dropped the match start crackling. Panic breaks out, and peacekeepers rush to see what's happening. In such confusion, no one would think of the goods. When everything eventually quiets down, I'm already far away.

I reach the abandoned building where I set up my camp. It's a strategic place: not too far away from the town, and full of possible hideouts and escape routes. Actually, it used to be a factory of household appliances in the past, but it closed, and its owner must think that the demolition costs are too high. Good for me. I empty my rucksack with a satisfied smirk on my lips. Inside, there are two plaid blankets, a hoodie, two or three matchboxes, and some beef jerky. Shopping is over for today. Water? It's not a problem this time of the year. I filled two buckets with frozen snow, I just need to make it melt with fire… and that's precisely what I'm going to do. I light a match, and set fire to a pile of branches, which I gathered in the woods outside District 3. I put one of the buckets near the fire, then I sit down cross-legged, wrapped up in one of the blankets I stole. Finally a little warmth.

I live off what I can steal. I've been living like that for almost five years… since I've run away from home along with my little brother Seren. I take a picture of him and me out of my pocket. We look so happy and carefree... such a distant reality now that it seems almost it never happened. If our parents weren't two hopeless drunkards, we would have stayed home, and Seren wouldn't have died in a street brawl. I miss him, sometimes. His death was terrible, but it was avenged. By dint of stalking the streets, I found who killed my poor brother, and punished them. Their corpses were found bloody and broken in a mangled heap in a dark alley, and peacekeepers couldn't trace their murder back to me.

Since then, crime has become a normality for me. I don't even feel guilty, because that's the only way for me to survive. But sometimes I wonder what Seren would think of the person I've become. Would he understand my motives? Or would he just condemn my actions?

…...

_Present day_

_Dorah Asyn (18)- Citizen of District 3_

When my father comes to wake me up, he finds me already up and dressed. Actually, I got up early this morning, and went to the graveyard to bring flowers to my mother's grave. Don't know why, but I felt the need to do it.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you up, princess. Could you please go wake Jordan as well? Breakfast is ready," he says, smiling.

"Sure," I reply.

My father is an excellent cook, but he hasn't got time during the week, because he has to go to work early, so it's me who usually prepare breakfast. Be he doesn't have to work today, so I'd better take advantage of that, and enjoy his cuisine.

I enter my cousin's room. He's still sleeping. I approach his bed, and shake Jordan from his slumber.

"Wake up, Jordan! It's morning!" I tell him.

In response, he buries his head in the pillow, moaning.

"Pa' has cooked breakfast!" I add then.

This seems to convince him to get up from bed. "Good news, finally," he comments with a wide smile, while stretching.

"Hey! Why aren't you so enthusiastic when I cook?"

"Because you… you're not very good at cooking?" he offers.

"That's not true! Besides, you should thank me. If I didn't do it, you would starve to death, since you can barely cook an egg!" I point out, offended.

He giggles. "I was just joking, Dorah!"

"I hope so."

When he's ready as well, we join pa' in the kitchen. By the delicious smell coming from that room, I can tell that he made pancakes. My mouth starts watering. There it lies… in the middle of the table, a plate with an inviting tower of pancakes, and rivers of golden maple syrup dripping from its top. A king breakfast. We immediately sit at the table, and start stuffing our mouths with pieces of pancake.

"Hey! Slow down! You're not starving!" complains my father.

"These pancakes are delicious!" comments Jordan, talking with his mouth full.

"That's impolite, Jordan, I've told you thousands of times," he scolds him, but my cousin doesn't seem to mind.

My father sighs, resigned. "Okay, I'll close one eye… but just because today there's the Reaping. A little glee won't hurt."

Yeah, the Reaping, I've almost forgotten about it… almost. This gonna be my last Reaping, the last time in which I'll stand in the square as an eligible girl. But I'm not afraid of it. I know that, if it's meant to be, I will be reaped. No use worrying beforehand. I'll stay positive. This strategy has always worked for difficult situations, and I'm sure it would do also in case I was chosen for the Games.

After finishing breakfast (ugh, I'd like more), we head together to the main square. Unconsciously, I start whistling a tune.

At some point, Jordan turns toward me. "I don't know how you can be so easy-going," he tells me.

Even if he's not yet of Reaping age and, therefore, risks nothing, he seems to have lost his earlier cheerfulness.

"Just trying to mind off," I reply, shrugging.

Once to the square, I have to part from Jordan and my father, and reach the eighteen-year-old section right in front of the stage. There, I meet my best friends: Binary, Tesla, and Amperia. Looks like I've made friends with people who are to some extent opposite of me. Binary is indeed very quiet, whereas I often talk too much; she's opposite of me in her stillness. Tesla lost her parents during the war, and, since then, she has grown more aggressive, whereas I tried to go on with my life; she's opposite of me in her rage. Last but not least, Amperia is a born pessimist and constantly depressed, whereas I've learned to appreciate even simple things; she's opposite of me in her attitude towards life.

While I'm musing on these things, the mayor has started reading the Treaty of Treason, even if it's an out-of-date document, since it refers to the first rebellion. As soon as he finishes, the escort from the Capitol mounts the stage- a colourful figure with rosy cheeks, light eyes, and long, pearly white hair. She's so young, she could be even younger than me.

After presenting herself as Iridia Rainbow, she goes on speaking in the typical, cheerful manner of Capitolites: "Let's start with the girls!"

She picks up the first slip of paper her gloved hand meets. "Dorah Asyn!"

When my name is called, my self-confidence falters for a moment, but I quickly recover. I mount the stage, taking a look at my friends, who are staring at me with scared eyes. Once onstage, I try to find my relatives in the crowd on the sides of the square, but I can't see them.

"Does anyone want to volunteer for this young lady?" asks the escort, but no one answers.

"Let's call the male tribute, then… Quantum Sparks!"

The reaped boy is seventeen years old. What strikes me the most is his physical appearance: athletic build- even though he looks a bit underfed- startling, aquamarine eyes, blonde hair dyed electric blue at the edges- so light that it appears almost to be made of silver- sharp jawline, high cheekbones. He doesn't look scared, he looks rather confused… everyone has their own way of reacting to the Reaping, I suppose. While mounting the stage, he almost trips over a step.

"Welcome onstage, Quantum… safe and sound," says the escort, eventually.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Rainbow… and you can call me Quan," he replies with a shy smile.

Oh, he smiles so sweetly! That's the kind of smile an innocent lamb could have… before being slaughtered. I immediately feel sympathy for him.

"You're very polite, Quan. Volunteers?"

No one answers, of course.

"So, let me introduce the tributes of District 3 for the first time: Dorah Asyn and Quantum Sparks! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Without any further ado, we enter the Justice Building, where we're immediately assigned a separated waiting room for goodbyes. The room is quite simple, the only piece of furniture are a couple of couches, which don't look very comfortable, though. My father and Jordan visit me first. My cousin runs towards me, and hugs me tight, tears flooding from his eyes. The last time I saw him cry like that was at his parents' funeral. It's a heart-breaking sight, but, again, I have to stay strong for him.

"Dorah… that's unfair… it was your last year… you…" he stammers.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm still alive, and I promise you I'll do anything to win the Games," I reply, trying to comfort him.

"But the Games are cruel, I don't want you to become a monster," he rebuts.

"I'll always be myself, whatever happens. Besides, if you root for me, it will be easier, okay?"

"I'll be rooting for you… always."

"Thank you."

Then, it's my father's turn to speak. When Jordan breaks our embrace, he comes closer to me, and puts his hands on my shoulders. He's teary too.

"Dorah, your mother would be proud of you as I am," he says with a sad smile.

"Thank you," I reply, hugging him.

"I know it's useless… I mean, telling you to do your best… I know you'll do your best, just… be careful, please… I lost your mother, I don't want to lose you as well."

"You won't lose me. I'll find some good allies, and make it out of the arena alive. I could ally with my district partner for a start."

In response, he breaks our embrace with a worried expression on his face. "I don't think you should, Dorah. I've heard some rumours, that boy is a crook, apparently."

"Just rumours," I retort.

"Maybe, but not always people are what they seem."

At this stage, a peacekeeper enters the room to send away my relatives.

"Please, a little more time!" pleads Jordan.

"There are other visitors waiting outside, and we have no time to waste!" is the response of the peacekeeper.

As soon as they're gone, my friends enter the room. Their eyes are reddened, they have been crying, but now they're trying to stay strong for me. They know I want them to stay strong.

"How are you?" asks Binary, a bit uneasy.

"Believe me, I'm fine. I know I shouldn't feel like that, but I know I can make it," I answer.

"That's the spirit!" says Tesla with a smirk. "Show them what District 3 girls can do!" she adds.

"Too self-confidence could be your ruin, though," Amperia chimes in with her usual pessimism.

"Oh, come on! She's going into the Hunger Games! Could you be more supportive for a change?" complains Tesla.

"I'm just telling the truth," retorts Amperia, rolling her eyes.

"Please, girls, don't argue now, we won't see each other for a while. Anyway, I really appreciate your support, and I thank you for coming to say goodbye," I chime in.

"We couldn't abandon you, you're our best friend, Dorah," replies Binary with a sad smile.

"Thank you very much."

…...

_Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17)- District 3 male tribute_

There's a map of Panem drawn on the wall of the waiting room. I'm staring at it. I've got plenty of time to waste after all, since I don't expect anyone to visit me there, not even my parents… well, they'd better stay away, I don't want to see them. As far as I know, alcohol could have already killed them. In any case, I don't care. Their carelessness caused Seren's death, and I will never forgive them, that's for sure.

I keep on watching the map. There are thirteen districts in Panem, but only three are considered Career districts: One, Two, and Four. District 3 is right between two Career districts during the initial chariot parade, that's why our tributes are always ignored by sponsors. But that could be an advantage. Since Three tends to be underestimated by both Capitolites and Careers, no one would ever think that its male tribute might turn out to be a killer. That would be a great surprise- pleasant for Capitolites, definitely unpleasant for Careers. I've already started preparing this great surprise at the Reaping, but I cannot keep on depreciating my character also in the Capitol, I shall display some skills, but just a little. Rather than a surprise, I shall be an enigma… an enigma that won't be solved until the arena.

* * *

**So, other two tributes ready to be sent to the Capitol. What do you think of the positive Dorah (by _ santiagoponcini20_) and the enigmatic Quantum (by ****_SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn_****)? **

**Thank you for reading :)**


	9. D4: the Flirt and the Determined

_12 years ago_

_Falcon Smith (39)- Minister for the Intra-Panem Relations_

A peaceful night has fallen over an equally peaceful District 4. From my room, I can hear only the rhythmic crash of waves. I'm not used to it, to this peace. In the Capitol, people are used to partying till late… and what a noise they make! Hundreds of guffawing, plastic-coated fishes lost in a river of perpetual city lights. But, if I open the curtains now, all I can see is an undistinguished, dark mass… actually, the dividing line between the sea and the solid ground is visible only thanks to the full moon, which casts its silvery beams on the water and the surrounding roofs. Is this peace that prevents me from sleeping? Or is there something else?

_Ah, you must think only about your duty, about why you are here! _But why am I here? Why should a Capitolite spend a night in District 4? Well, as the Minister for the Intra-Panem Relations, I represent the central government in the districts, and the government has to be present, when there's a catastrophe… in this case, a tremendous seaquake, which caused widespread damage, deaths, and injuries. I came to District 4 this morning to see what happened, and I'm returning to the Capitol tomorrow. President Snow was too busy to come with me but, as he said the day he appointed me, "the districts should trust you, you've got a reassuring face". I still don't know what he meant by "reassuring face", maybe he was referring to the fact that, unlike many Capitolites, I have never got plastic surgery. Anyway, I'd rather have been assigned a different Ministry, something that doesn't imply direct contact with the districts… but who would dare to say no to President Snow, especially when he watches you with those snake-like eyes of his?

Suddenly, I hear some light steps in the corridor, and a knock at my door immediately afterwards. I go to open it, and wish I wouldn't have done it. It's Nanako Yu- a beautiful woman with almond-shaped eyes and bowl-cut, raven hair. Her eyes are really peculiar- pitch-black but with some kind of blue shade, like a wisp in a dark abyss. The only flaw I can find in this woman is her short stature… and that's precisely the problem. Nanako is part of the group that has organized my visit to District 4. Since I've got off the train, she hasn't been able to take her wonderful eyes off me. It's disturbing, but somehow flattering... nevertheless, I know deeper down that I shouldn't feel like that, and this nocturnal visit suggests a kind of intimacy in which I don't want to indulge.

"Mrs. Yu," I say, greeting her with a certain unease.

"May I come in?" she asks me.

"I don't think you should," I promptly answer.

She smiles, though, gazing at me with searching eyes. "You think I shouldn't, but what do you _feel_ I should do?"

"I've got a wife and two sons," I say, defensively.

"Mr. Smith, I don't mean to ruin your marriage. Besides, if you really care about social conventions, you'd better let me in; someone could see us, and what would they think?"

_Dammit! _

"Nothing, because you'll leave now," I reply, trying to sound as harsh as possible… but something in my voice betrays my true feelings, and Nanako enters the room, gently pushing me aside.

I close the door. She takes off her shoes, and sensually lets her coat fall to the ground, revealing that she's wearing just a lacy, blue vest underneath.

"I don't want… I…" I stammer.

"Your tongue says no, but your eyes say yes," she rebuts.

"And what about that Ren?"

"Mr. Laine? Oh, he's a caring man, but… you know, it's not the same," she says, while getting closer.

"It's not the same, indeed. You cannot feel the same for a man who won't see you again after tonight, and for one who lives near you and who is sincerely in love with you," I point out.

"Distance? Is that the only problem for you?" she asks me, languid.

"It's a problem from any possible perspective."

"How tragic!"

"It cannot happen, that's it."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Your wife won't find it out, unless you tell her, and I don't think you will."

"I will tell her nothing, because nothing will happen."

"I want you, Falcon, just for one night, no strings attached, that's it," she insists, getting even closer.

She's so close now, that I can smell the sweet perfume she spayed on her bare neck. It must be vanilla and, despite myself, it enchantingly excites my senses. Gorgo never uses perfume. Actually, the quality I most appreciate in my wife is her rigour, so why am I attracted by a woman who's the exact opposite of her? Languid, shameless creature! It's true that Gorgo is often busy with her work *****, and that I haven't seen her for months, but that's not an excuse, I shouldn't… why don't I feel guilty when I eventually dare to touch the fragrant flower that stands half-naked before me? Her bare neck, her delicate shoulders that shudder at my touch, her… well, maybe I shouldn't think too much of what I'm doing, maybe I should just let it happen, and preserve these adulterous recollections in the secrecy of my memory…

…...

_A couple of days before the Reaping_

_Olivia Simmons (17)- Citizen of District 4_

I'm staring at the blank ceiling, while lying on my bed. My room is scarcely illuminated by the light that comes from outside, since the curtains are drawn. My eyes are open, but they're actually watching nothing in particular, and only the arrival of my little sister Jasmine interrupts this nothingness.

"Mum wants you to lay the table for dinner," she says.

I get up almost mechanically. I hate the dull humdrum that my life has become. Anyway, I follow my sister in the kitchen. My mother is cooking, and unfortunately the smell is not inviting.

"What are you cooking?" I ask her.

"Fish soup. Now, lay the table, please," she answers, without taking her eyes off the boiling soup.

I snort. Fish… despite coming from District 4, I don't like it very much.

At some point, she quickly takes a look at me, before resuming her cooking. "You should really get a haircut," she comments.

I instinctively look at my straight, dirty blonde hair. I don't remember the last time I had it cut; in fact, they're now elbow-long.

"What for?" I reply, shrugging.

"For the Reaping."

"That's not a good reason."

"Yes, it is, instead. Everyone should be at least presentable. You look too wild like that, Olivia, someone could think that you're a homeless."

"Yes, you're right, I don't want to embarrass my family, in case I get reaped," I say, defiant.

In response, my mother turns to me, annoyed. "That's not the point, Olivia!"

"That's precisely the point!" I shout back, and then leave the kitchen in a fury.

"Olivia! Come back!"

Oh, I'm not going to come back, that's for sure… not immediately, at least. I go out, and head to the shore. My father is a fisher, and all fishers live near a shore in Four, so I don't have to cover great distances to reach my destination. I make the wooden steps to go down to the beach in a single bound. Once there, I take off my shoes, and start walking barefoot on the warm sand till I reach the sea. I let the gentle waves wetting my pale feet, while gazing westward at the setting sun. A fresh breeze is now ruffling my hair. I sigh. The beauty of nature fails at soothing me. Everything has changed, and I don't like it.

"Everything okay?" asks a voice behind my back.

I turn around. Jasmine has followed me. "Nothing is okay," I answer.

"Why do you say that?"

I almost grunt. "Why? That's a good question! Why? Well, I'm disappointed, I suppose. During the rebellion, we fought for a better life, and now… now, everyone just pretends nothing happened! Finnick Odair was a symbol of hope, and now we don't even dare to whisper his name!"

"Is it because mum wants you to cut your hair for the Reaping?" she goes on.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg, Jasmine! Mum wants us to look presentable, but a well-dressed slave is always a slave!" I rebut.

"She just wants us to make a good impression," she replies, a little intimidated by my angry voice.

"She's just a coward, like the rest of this district. District 4 fought for its freedom as a lion would do, but now… since the rebellion failed, people have just returned to be the lapdogs of the Capitol, eager to lick the hand of their master! Things have changed, but I won't let them change me! I'm determined to stay the same, and I'm going to stand up against all this first chance!"

…...

_Present day_

_Izumi Laine (12)- Citizen of District 4_

I've dreamt of hugging my mother, but, as soon as I wake up, the warmth of this act is soon replaced by the sad coldness of my bed. My eyes and cheeks slightly burn, because I've been weeping while sleeping… again. I wipe away the remaining tears, if any. I yawn and stretch. Today, we're allowed to stay in bed a little bit longer than usual, since there's no training. But no training doesn't necessarily mean that we have a free day. Today, there's the Reaping. Since the very end of the war, District 4 has gathered all the orphans of important families together as a sort of initial pool for the academy. Anyway, I don't think there gonna be volunteers this year.

Our dorm is adjoined to the academy, where we have school, we train, and we also have our meals in a canteen in common. The meals are not that abundant, but they're well-balanced, designed to develop our bodies. I like mealtime, it's the only moment of day in which I wouldn't like to be anywhere else but here, the only moment in which I forget that I'm an orphan, the only moment in which I really enjoy the company of my friends.

Immediately after breakfast, we head to the main square all together. The elder kids help our overseers to guard us, which is not always a good thing, since many of them turn out to be bullies. I know of my own experience what hazing means. There's a boy, Jeff, who has targeted me, and he's teasing me also today.

"I wonder what you'll do when you get reaped, you gnat… cry and call your mama? No, wait, you already do this every day!" he says.

"Leave me alone, Jeff!" I reply, glaring at him.

"Uh, if you show those eyes, maybe you'll get some sponsors… out of pity!" he continues, laughing.

"I can't help it, if I'm adorable!"

Jeff watches me, puzzled. _I can't help it, if I'm adorable_? Where does this come from? Luckily, an overseer comes to separate me and my bully.

"Always bickering, you two!" she comments, shaking her head in disapproval.

When we reach the main square in front of the Justice Building, we present ourselves to the peacekeepers, and join our respective sections. Mine is the furthest from the stage, but I feel oppressed by it, by what it represents, nonetheless. My very first Reaping… will I be able to survive it?

Mayor Litore **** **mounts the stage. He makes a monotone speech about the necessity of the Hunger Games, and reads the Treaty of Treason. I cannot tell by his voice if he believes in the Games, or if he's just putting a good face on it. Probably the latter. When the mayor finishes speaking, the escort from the Capitol takes control of the stage, eager to move to the actual reaping of tributes.

"Well, everyone knows the importance of the Hunger Games, but I thank Mayor Litore for highlighting it. And now… let's call the tributes of this year onstage!"

The escort starts with the girls. "Jasmine Simmons!"

"I volunteer!" someone shouts, immediately afterwards.

From my position, I cannot see very well what's happening onstage, but I hear that the girl who volunteered presents herself as Olivia Simmons. She must be the sister of the reaped girl. I don't know her, but I cannot help but admire her courage. Not everyone would volunteer for someone else, even if it's for a relative. I wonder what you feel when you're loved that much.

"Izumi Laine!"

What? The escort has... no, it can't be true. Before I can compose myself, a peacekeeper drags me out of my section. I reluctantly mount the stage.

"Come on, dearie! Don't be afraid, I don't bite!" the escort encourages me.

Now, I can see him. He's a young man with spiked, golden hair and heavy makeup. He's wearing a dark blue unitard, with fake starfishes stuck on it. Even my district partner with her wild, long hair looks more human-like than him.

"Does anyone want to volunteer?" asks the escort, but no one answers. "We shall be content with one volunteer, then…"

"Oh, come on! You're happy to have a bloodbath as a tribute! It's so thrilling, isn't it? Now, put an end to this ridiculous pantomime, and move on!" my district partner interrupts him.

The escort, clearly baffled, resumes his talk: "Ahem, as I was saying…"

"Have you listened to me? Cut it out!"

The crowd seems to be enjoying this exchange. In fact, you can hear some chuckles. Eventually, the escort says: "The tributes of District 4, Olivia Simmons and Izumi Laine! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

We immediately enter the Justice Building, accompanied by the BOOs of the crowd. The peacekeeper at the waiting room's door asks me if I want to get visits. I shake my head, I don't want to see my friends in this case. I don't want them to see me now, to see how afraid I am. In fact, my entire body is shaking like a leaf, I could compare myself to an earthquake with two legs. When I'm finally alone, I sit in a coach, because I feel too dizzy to stand. I'm going to the Capitol for the Hunger Games… yeah, the Capitol… for good or ill, I will face my destiny there. Oh, if my mother could be there with me! _She'd know what to say_... I think, as tears start running down my cheeks. I miss Ren, too. He was a good man. He married my mother even though she was pregnant with another man's baby. Actually, I might meet my real father in the Capitol, but, if so, what should I tell him? Would he acknowledge me as his son? Does he even know that he had a son with Nanako? Does he even remember her? Would he see me as his son? Or would he just treat me an another lamb to immolate? I don't know whether I'll be allowed to speak to him face to face, but the bare possibility of seeing him makes me shiver. Maybe if the whole nation knew who I am, I'd stand a chance in the Games...

…...

_Olivia Simmons (17)- District 4 female tribute_

_Yes, Olivia, you did the right thing… you volunteered for your sister, and you also got a little revenge... _I keep telling myself, as I'm pacing back and forth, eagerly waiting for my family to come. And they come, eventually, teary all of them.

Jasmine immediately hugs me. "Please, Olivia, don't go! I don't want you to go!"

"I have no choice," I reply, breaking her embrace to watch her right in the eye. "But you don't have to worry about me. Someone who can defeat me has not yet been born," I add with a reassuring smile.

"I want you to have this as a district token," she goes on, handing me the necklace she once made with a twine and a white pearl I had found for her.

"Thank you, sis, I'll keep it with me the whole time," I say, caressing her cheek.

My parents are less gentle than my sister. They don't want me to die, of course, but they scold me on the way I behaved onstage.

"What were you thinking of? That's precisely the kind of behaviour that could get you killed!" says my mother, desperate.

"I don't think so. As a matter of fact, the Capitol loves bold tributes," I rebut with a shrug.

"So now you're interested in what the Capitol thinks," says my mother in a disapproving tone.

"Not at all. I just want to show them that they cannot do whatever they want, that they should't take it for granted that no one in the districts react," I reply, trying to sound as calm as possible, which is really hard, since I feel like a volcano ready to blow.

"Your words are dangerous," my father warns me.

"I know it. But I'm not going to turn into a puppet without feelings just because it would please them! They can force me into their cruel Games, but they will never change me!"

"Please, Olivia, be careful what you say, and to whom you say it… we want you to come back to us alive," he begs me.

"It's for your own sake," adds my mother, putting an hand on my shoulder.

"I'll do my best to survive, that's all I can promise you," I say.

"That's all we want you to do," replies my father with a sad smile.

* * *

**And another Reaping is done, thanks to _Katie Blake _(Olivia Simmons) and _ santiagoponcini20 _(Izumi Laine) for submitting these tributes. What do you think of their behaviour?**

**As you can read, Izumi is linked to one of my characters. I take this opportunity to repeat that you can refer to my AU characters when sending me a tribute/sponsor. The list of possible references is on my profile. I think it's a good way of interacting with my stories, also because it may help to see a character in a different light. **

**Thank you for reading :) **

* * *

***When the flashback takes place, Gorgo Smith is still working as a peacekeeper in District 2 (but she's a Capitolite)**

****This character was introduced in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _chapter 6 (D4 Reaping), where he's still the mayor, but also the foster father of the male tribute of District 4 (Oliver Litore, the Distant Brother)**


	10. D5: the Machine and the Protector

**Hi, everyone! I'm finally back! I hope you enjoyed your ******Christmas** holidays. But now, let's not waste time, and move straight to the chapter! Special thanks to ****_santiagoponcini20 _and ****_Annabeth Pie_ for submitting the tributes of District 5.**

**Enjoy your reading :)**

* * *

_Last year_

_Leroy Jacobson (11)- Soldier _*****

The calm before the storm… that's what I think of, while I'm looking at my brother, who's having a cigarette. It glows, and then the ashes fall to the ground. I hypnotically watch them fall… they're not that different from the lives we're going to wipe out. A cloud of white smoke is now shrouding my brother, but I can still see his face… his weary face. The Capitol has turned us into soldiers, as they did with many other war orphans. We know more about the territory, so we're more likely to find where rebels hide.

"Want to have a puff?" asks my brother at some point.

He offers his cigarette to me, but I reject it.

"You'd better have it… you know, a little elation before the battle won't hurt," he insists.

Soldiers from the districts are not unfamiliar with taking drugs before fighting. Drugs make them brave and fearless… but they're also the way in which the Capitol controls them. If you want more drug, you have first to find some rebels to execute… that's how it works, that's why even innocent civilians may be killed. Sometimes, there are food shortages, and drugs are taken to overcome the pangs of hunger. I took some drugs myself, but I'm not addicted… not yet, at least. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for my brother Lorenzo. He takes great pleasure from the painless oblivion they give, even though he's turned into a wreck as soon as their effect wears off. Drugs may help him to cope with killing, but they're slowly destroying him, and the worst part of it is that there's nothing I can do to save him, because we are in this together.

"I'm fine," I say, rather shyly.

"Sure?"

I nod.

"Well, you don't know what you're missing," he replies, while having another puff.

Oh, I know exactly what I'm missing, instead: ecstasy that makes everything- even killing- thrilling and fast-moving, but that makes you a stranger to your own body, as if you were watching it from outside. If you kill people, you suddenly see red, as if their blood was running before your eyes, and the noise of their screams reaches your ear just as a distant, muffled echo. But when you wake from this macabre daydream… oh, how sick you feel! No, it's not worth it.

At some point, we hear a rustling from the surrounding trees. Lorenzo immediately stands up, his inseparable rifle in hand, his cigarette still between his teeth.

"Don't shoot, it's me!" cries a voice from the wilderness.

Lorenzo relaxes. "Me who?" he asks, rather amused.

Clearly, he has recognized the voice. A boy emerges from the trees. He's one of our fellow soldiers, indeed.

"You treat your best customers like that?" he complains.

"Better be careful," replies my brother, smirking.

"Customers?" I ask, puzzled.

"Ah, nothing you should care about, kid! Just a little bargain to earn extra money!" says Lorenzo.

"You've got it, by the way?" inquires his companion, under his breath.

"Later."

"There could be no later."

"What?"

"We found some rebels."

"Oh, really?" says my brother, his voice trembling with excitement.

"There's no time to waste, then," I chime in, standing up.

My legs ache due to the uncomfortable position in which I was sitting. Not that one can expect to find a comfortable place to sit in a wild wood.

"His nickname is well-suited, Salas," comments the guy, addressing my brother.

"Salas?"

"Just my war nickname. Every elder soldier has a nickname," explains Lorenzo.

"And we find one also for the younger. Do you want to know yours?" adds the other, laughing.

I look at my brother. "I didn't know I had one."

He rolls his eyes in response.

"Your brother calls you Squirrel."

"Squirrel?" I say, rather dismayed.

"Yeah, because you look so cute and tiny, but you can bite," explains the guy with an amused smile on his lips.

"Oh, really? That's what you think of me?" I reply, addressing my brother in an angry tone.

"It's not necessarily an insult," he justifies himself, shrugging.

"Yes, it is, instead! It means that you don't take me seriously… that I'm not a good soldier for you!" I rebut, beside myself.

"Uh, Squirrel is freaking out!" says my brother's companion, pretending to be frightened.

"Oh, shut up!" I shout in response.

At this stage, the sound of several shots reaches us. We all know what it means: the raid has started… ecstasy, blood, death… will I ever wake up from this nightmare? And, if so, how could I go on with my life, if my hands are blood-stained? Actually, I feel more pity for the soldiers who survive a battle than for those who die… at least, the latter won't suffer any longer.

"They've started without us," Lorenzo points out.

"Let's go! I don't want to miss all the fun!" says the other, excited.

They start to run, rifles in hand, towards the direction from which the unceasing shots come, and I follow them. We get out of the woods, go down a slope, and reach a series of caves along a river… that's where rebels were hiding! As we're coming closer, all the sounds of human desperation join the choir of rifles. Anyway, by the time we get to the place, the raid is over. I hear a weak moaning on my right… a man, a survivor… but Lorenzo immediately puts him out of his misery with his bayonet. I instinctively look at his eyes… there's no trace of elation in them, unlike what I expected… his brown eyes are cold despite their colour, insensitive despite the sorrow they endured, unblinking despite what they're seeing … on the whole, my brother looks more like a machine without feelings than like a human being. And this vision frightens me.

I look around, at the landscape, trying to focus on something different from the spectacle of death I've just witnessed. Too much red, I need to find something green to soothe my sore eyes… but nature doesn't help me, since it's fall. I don't know exactly where I am… somewhere between District 5 and District 6, I suppose. Eventually, I find the courage to gaze at the death scene again. I gradually realize a thing: these rebels had no weapons with them. No weapons? My head starts spinning as I understand what this implies… they weren't rebels, they were probably normal people who wanted to flee war… like Lorenzo and I, before we were captured and turned into soldiers. They were innocent.

A light breeze has started to blow, bringing some dry leaves with it… this is the last thing I remember, because then I lose my senses…

…...

_6 years ago_

_Dynamica Sleet (10)- Citizen of District 5_

I'm in that state of drowsiness- when you know you'll wake up soon, but you still want to linger on your dreams. But it lasts little. Someone enters the room, shaking me. I get up with difficulty, my head is spinning due to the sudden awakening, my body is trembling due to the sudden passage from warmth to chill. I look up. It's my mother.

"What's up? You could let me sleep a little bit longer on Saturdays," I complain, while yawning.

"Where's your sister?" she asks me in a worried tone.

I look around. We sleep all in the same room, but I can't see my little sister Diamond anywhere. At first, I'm neither worried nor surprised, I know she's not a sleepyhead, but the tone of my mother is somehow alarming.

"No idea," I reply, shrugging.

"She told me she wanted to have a walk with you. Didn't you see her?"

This makes my antennae raise. For Diamond, "have a walk" means "go exploring". She's so curious, she likes wandering in what she calls "unexplored places", no matter if it's dangerous. But I don't want to make my mother worry even more, so I simply get up with a reassuring smile on my lips.

"Don't worry, ma', she must have started without me, you know how active she is. I'll go find her, okay?" I say.

"But she could be anywhere!" she rebuts.

"I know her favourite places."

"Oh, hurry up, Dynamica! I can't think of that poor child of six wandering alone! She's also crippled, what if she fell and hurt herself?"

"She's fine, ma'," I say, but I'm not 100% sure it's true. To be sincere, I'm a bit worried myself. "I'll find her before pa' comes back from the night shift, I promise," I add, nonetheless.

"Yeah, I'll wait there, your father must be tired and hungry," she mechanically replies.

I leave, wearing just a worn, beige shawl in addition to what I put on to go to bed last night. The sun has risen a short time ago, and the air is chilly. I try to call my sister, but my voice is hoarse because of the cold. Actually, it's so cold that my head aches, and I can barely feel my nipped fingers and toes. I must find her soon! But I don't know where to start. I told my mother I knew Diamond's favourite places, but she hasn't really a favourite place for walks. Then, a thought hits me: a couple of days ago, she wanted to see the abandoned nuclear plant, but I didn't let her, because it's too dangerous. After the Dark Days, part of the nuclear production of the former District 13 was moved to Five, but it was a failure. They built only one plant, which was later on shut down, because it was not compliant. In fact, there were some radiation emissions, not enough to kill, but enough to bring about issues. I truly hope Diamond didn't go there, but I have to be sure, all the same. It's not very far away from where we live, so she could perfectly go there on her own.

The area all around the plant is enclosed by a high fence with barbed wire on its top, with signs such as NO TRESPASSING, and symbols of radioactivity everywhere. But there are some holes in the fence, since the place has been basically left to itself years ago. My father told me once that the plant was built on a vast green area… as if District 5 was not bleak enough! The green area must have been wonderful, certainly better than a grey nuclear plant. I cross the fence, venturing into a real "unexplored place". Green grass is growing in patches on the brownish turf, and ivy is slowly making its way on the grey walls of the plant. It's a good sign, I suppose, it means that the place is not radioactive, right? I used to imagine radiations as glowing, yellow-green rays that expand everywhere, but then I was told that they're invisible, which makes them even more dangerous, if possible. Anyway, the plant has been secured, so there shouldn't be any dangers. I'm moving forward with a soft pace. At some point, I step on something in the weeds. I look down: it's a pink slipper with a little, white ribbon on its top. My blood turns cold in my veins: it's my sister's! She must have tripped and lost it!

"Diamond!" I shout, ignoring my sore throat.

No answer.

"Diamond! It's me! Where are you?" I insist.

Finally, my sister pops up from some thick shrubberies. I hug her immediately.

"Oh, Diamond! You can't imagine how worried I was! Is everything okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine, I just lost one shoe," she simply answers, showing me her bare foot.

"Don't worry, I found it," I say, helping her to put it on. "Why are you here? I told you it was dangerous!"

"I was curious," she replies, watching me with her goo-goo eyes.

Oh, she knows that I cannot stay mad long, when she watches me like that!

"Promise me that you won't do it again," I say.

"Okay, I promise," she replies with the tone of someone who knows they got away with it.

Nevertheless, I hug her again. Diamond is one of the few people I really care about. She seems always so weak and harmless that one feels the need to protect her. But today I risked failing at it, it cannot happen again! If I lost my little sister, I don't know what I'd do. But it won't happen… I'm the elder sister, I will never let it happen!

…...

_Present day_

_Lorenzo "Salas" Jacobson (18)- Citizen of District 5_

I wake up earlier than it is necessary, but I cannot help it, I need to have a cigarette. I get up, and then start wandering around the room like a zombie. Suddenly, a thought stops me. I look behind: my little brother Leroy is sleeping like an angel. I immediately feel guilty, but I cannot get cold feet now, I'll do what I have to do.

I get out of the house with a cigarette in hand. I light it, enjoying its sweet scent, and I immediately feel better. I can make it; after all, I'm more prepared than anyone else will ever be. The sound of footsteps distracts me from my thoughts. It's Leroy.

"You woke up early," he points out, yawning.

"I'm not tired," I reply, without looking at him.

I'm looking beyond the porch of our house, but my eyes are actually vacant.

"You okay?" he asks me.

"I'm fine."

"Let's have breakfast, then!" he offers.

"I'm not hungry."

"You should eat something, Lorenzo; cigarettes are not food," he rebuts.

"I told you that I'm not hungry! Find something to eat by yourself, and leave me alone!" I speak up, annoyed.

Leroy winces, but keeps his eyes fixed on mine. He's not afraid, he's resolute.

I sigh. "Okay, sorry for that… it's just the Reaping… it really gets on my nerves…" I apologize.

In response, he just smiles, and takes my free hand. "Don't worry. we're in this together. Basically, the whole district is uneasy today, we're not alone."

I don't rebut; he's right, after all. I just smile. But I feel so stupid! This year, Leroy is eligible for the first time in his life, and he seems more self-confident than I am. What's happening to me? I'm the elder brother, I should be his gold standard, not the other way round! His confidence will make me more resolute, though.

_Don't worry, you'll be safe, Leroy… it's a promise!_

My brother goes to the kitchen, and prepares bread and butter also for me. I put out my cigarette, and join him inside.

"Apparently, you cannot help being my nurse," I comment, trying to sound cheerful.

"You're my brother, and I love you," he replies with such a candour that I'm almost tempted to reveal my plan… but I keep quiet.

_I'm going to do dreadful things for you, Leroy… we'll see what you'll think of me afterwards. I fear that you'll end up hating me. I promised you no more violence after the war, but I cannot keep my word… I cannot chance what I am, that's my curse… I've become so heartless that blood leaves me indifferent… a machine rather than a person made of flesh and bone..._

"Lorenzo?"

I look up. My brother is staring at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Yeah… I was just thinking… what are we going to do after the Reaping? A whole day for ourselves, we must take this opportunity!"

"Umm… no idea. But we'll come up with something. For the moment, let's get ready for the Reaping!"

When we leave, we're both wearing casual clothes. First of all, celebrating the restoration of the Hunger Games with finer garments would be silly, and by looking at other people in the street I can tell that many agree with me in Five. Secondly, we cannot really afford expensive clothes. But things may change. We reach the main square, and enter the roped area reserved to the eligible kids. I accompany Leroy to his section.

"Be brave, kid," I tell him, before heading to my section in the front.

"You too," he replies.

Onstage, there are the mayor, his wife, the Head Peacekeeper... and there would be also the past victors of the Games, if District 5 had any still living. The mayor gives an introductory speech, and then leaves the word to the escort- a woman who's wearing a white top, a yellow hoodie, bright yellow sweatpants with vertical, black stripes at the sides, high heels, and long, silver earrings.

"Hello, District 5! My name is Kira Joy******, and I'll be your escort! Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games!" she chirps, with exaggerated enthusiasm. "And now, the moment we were all waiting for: the reaping of our tributes!"

"I volunteer!" I immediately shout.

The escort hadn't even the time to approach the balls with the entries, but she seems delighted to have a volunteer. "Oh, what a brave boy! What's your name, darling?" she asks me with a wide smile.

"Lorenzo Jacobson," I answer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the Head Peacekeeper nods with satisfaction. But it's just for a second, he immediately composes himself.

"And now, our female tribute is… Diamond Sleet!"

The reaped girl doesn't immediately make her appearance.

"Diamond Sleet!" repeats the escort.

A peacekeeper has to drag the girl out of her section. She's twelve years old… like Leroy. She's crippled and clearly blind, and the peacekeeper has to push her forward. A pitiful spectacle. They'd better kill her right now, because she stands no chance.

"I volunteer!" someone shouts.

An older girl emerges from her section. In the meantime, a man and a woman have got out of the crowd, and they're now accompanying Diamond Sleet out of the roped area. They're her parents, I suppose. However, she seems to resist. She's vacantly and desperately looking in the general direction of the stage, where her saviour has just mounted. I look at the newcomer. She's a bit underfed, with a pale complexion and wavy, blonde hair… her hair has a sort of neon green streak that immediately catches my eye.

"Oh, that's fashionable! Is that a new trend?" comments the escort, pointing at her hair.

"Well, if you consider exposure to radiation a trend, then I'm fashionable," she replies.

Kira Joy doesn't seem to care about this last comment, though. "Two volunteers from a non-Career district! That's an event to celebrate, don't you think? Let's give a round of applause for our brave tributes!"

Someone applauds, but the majority of the crowd keeps quiet.

"Ahem… the tributes of District 5: Lorenzo Jacobson and… oh, how forgetful I am! What's your name, dearie?"

"Dynamica Sleet."

"Ah, a relative…quite predictable. Anyway, I give you the brave tributes of District 5, ladies and gentlemen: Lorenzo Jacobson and Dynamica Sleet! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Once in the Justice Building, we're both assigned a private room for visitors. There's a peacekeeper at the door, whom I tell that I don't want to get any visits. I don't want to see Leroy cry. I don't want to explain why I volunteered… or, rather, why I was _forced _to volunteer. He would not understand. He would probably feel guilty.

My thoughts are interrupted by the noise of the door opening.

"I told you I don't want…" I start saying, but I don't finish my utterance, because, when I turn around, I see that it's the Head Peacekeeper.

"Sir," I greet him, tensing up.

"Looks like you still remember how to show respect, Jacobson," he comments.

The Head Peacekeeper was my former chief during the war. Those who were recruited in the districts like Leroy and I usually ended up in units aimed to guerrilla actions. Once the war was over, he was appointed Head Peacekeeper of Five, also because he comes from Five as well. Since then, he has been constantly keeping an eye on me and my brother. We had tried to desert at some point, but we were recaptured. However, instead of executing us, our chief stroke a secret deal with me. He was certain that the Capitol would reintroduce the Hunger Games, so he ordered me to volunteer in order to kill possible rebels among the tributes.

"Too show-off for my liking, but you did what you had to do, at least. In any case, just to be sure, what's your mission?" he inquires, revolving around me like a vulture.

"Killing rebels, if any, sir," I promptly answer.

"Anyone could be a rebel, Jacobson, remember that!"

"Yes, sir."

"And what if you failed?" he goes on.

"I won't fail, sir," I affirm.

"But what if you did?" he insists, watching me with his piercing, cold eyes.

I hold my breath. "You would kill my brother, sir," I say.

"Precisely. That's the ending of deserters. But I was merciful to you, and I hope you won't disappoint me."

"I won't, sir."

…...

_Dynamica Sleet (16)- District 5 female tribute_

As soon as I'm left alone in the waiting room, I burst into tears. Seeing my sister get reaped… seeing how they treated her… but I did the right thing. She would have been killed, whereas I stand a chance, at least. I've always felt the need to protect her, especially after her health got worse due to radiation. I don't know if that day at the nuclear plant enhanced the whole process, all I know is that now poor Diamond is both crippled from birth and blind. Nobody cares about her in this cruel world, expect for me and my parents. If I have to die in the arena, I'll do it knowing that I saved her.

The door opens, and my family enters the room. They're all crying. I immediately hug Diamond, then my parents.

"Why did you volunteer?" asks my sister.

"I love you, Diamond, I couldn't let you go," I answer, teary.

"You did the right thing, kid, and we're proud of you," says my father.

He's almost unable to watch me without sobbing.

"Please, look after her, I… I won't come back home for a while," I tell my parents, wiping away my tears.

"Sure… and look after yourself, Dynamica. Remember that your family will always support you," replies my mother.

"Please, Dynamica, win for me… win for us! Our house will look empty without you!" pleads Diamond.

"Yes, I'll win. We will all move to a bigger house in Victor's Village… a house with lots of unexplored places… we could play hide and seek, what do you think?"

"And what else?"

I make a list of things that we could do in the new house: adopting a dog, playing in the garden, exploring the neighbourhood… the more things I add to the list, the more this project seems wonderful and feasible. Yes, we could have all of these. I could win, and our lives would be better forever. We could even afford a good doctor for Diamond. But, first of all, I have to win, and it won't be easy.

* * *

**So, another Reaping is finally done, and other two interesting tributes were introduced. All in all, we can say that this chapter revolves around the idea of protection. Both Lorenzo and Dynamica want in their own way to protect those they love. What do you think of their protective attitude?**

**I'll hopefully update more frequently from now on. For the moment, thank you a lot for reading and supporting me :)**

**Please, leave a review, if you liked this chapter! Have a nice day :) **

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***This character was introduced in ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _****chapter 7 (D5 Reaping) as one of the post-rebellion victors of District 5**

****The same escort as in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_**


	11. D6: the Hacker and the Psychologist

**Hi, everyone! Before starting with this chapter, I inform you that the slots of District 12 are available again, so you can submit. It might happen also to District 7, but I'm not sure, so I will accept submissions only for District 12 for the moment. I'll let you know. **

**Enjoy your reading :)**

* * *

_The day before the Reaping_

_Futaba Nakamura (15)- Citizen of District 6_

My room is wrapped in darkness, the only source of light being the blue screen of my computer. I'm working frenetically, my fingers moving swiftly on the keyboard. My eyes almost ache due to the prolonged exertion. The ticking sound of the keys that I'm pushing gives a certain rhythm to my work… maybe it's the only thing that keeps me awake. Actually, coffee stopped having an effect hours ago, and my cup is left aside, half-filled. Not that I'm going to drink from it; I hate cold coffee, as a matter of fact.

Suddenly, the door of my room opens, and light comes in, almost blinding me. I shield myself by my arms.

"What are you doing?" asks an imperious voice.

I don't need my sense of sight to know that it's my uncle Akira. When my eyes finally grow used to the light, I lower my arms.

"You should really be outdoors sometimes. You cannot waste your whole life before a computer screen!" he goes on.

"I'm not wasting my life," I say.

He sighs. "Oh, really? What are you doing?"

He has his usual, critical tone. Why does he always speak like that? He could stop stressing me sometimes!

"Nothing important," I answer, hurrying to close all my files… not that I think that he can understand what I was doing, but better safe than sorry, right?

_Shit! I was almost there!_

"You'll get in trouble sooner or later, and you know it, don't you?" my uncle goes on.

His tone has slightly changed; now, he sounds more worried than critical.

"I was just surfing in the internet, it's not forbidden," I reply, with a shrug.

It's the truth, in the end… well, not the whole truth, but a part of it.

"But it's what you search for that might be forbidden," he rebuts.

"Whatever."

"Futaba, if they don't want us to have access to everything, maybe it's because..."

"… because they think it could harm them to some extent," I finish his utterance.

"Well, that's precisely why you shouldn't meddle in!" he retorts.

Now, he sounds angry, but I'm not afraid of him.

"I know my stuff, don't worry."

"Futaba, it's for your own sake, please…"

Now, he's practically begging me. I almost pity him.

I snort, in response. "Okay, I'll do my best not to meddle in dangerous things, I promise."

I'm not going to keep my word, of course, but I might be able to distract my uncle for a while. It's worth a shot, after all. If I find what I'm interested in, it will be a real turning point in the lives of both of us. What I search for are pieces of information… any kind of information, but especially what is kept hidden, because it could cost the reputation of someone important like a politician or a ringleader of some sort. Capitolites are particularly interesting in this sense. Under Snow's presidency, the ruling class was really corrupt and ruthless, and scandals were basically the order of the day. I contributed to the breakout of some of them myself. As an expert hacker, I know how to get it past firewalls, but it's not always easy, of course, otherwise anyone could be a hacker. My idol was Beetee Latier: he updated the cyber defences of the Capitol, and then used them against it. To be sincere, when my parents died due to the war, I would have applied to move to District 3, but then my uncle adopted me. If I was completely alone in this world, it might have worked.

"I'd feel reassured, if I didn't know you're a good liar," comments my uncle.

_Oh, you know me too well!_

"And how you doing with all this?" I inquire.

"Say, have I ever been able to stop you?" he answers with a rhetoric question.

I smirk. "Not that I remember."

"Precisely."

"I haven't got anything- not yet, at least- if this makes you feel any better…"

"Be careful, Futaba," he replies. That said, he comes closer to me and adds, pointing at the tattoo I have on my neck: "_This _could be your… _our _ruin."

The tattoo in question represents a red-eyed, green snake that forms an s. It refers to my nickname as a hacker: _SlyRubyEye_.

"I'll leave you alone, but, before that, remember that you have an appointment this afternoon. Your psychologist won't be happy to know that you made no attempt to go out of your room," he says, changing the subject of a sudden.

I snort in response. "He's not a real psychologist. Besides, I don't need his help," I rebut.

"We cannot afford an expert, but Mr. Rossi seems competent, all in all. Whatever you like it or not, you need help, Futaba! It's not normal for a teenager to spend all her time indoor, and without any social contact! That's non-negotiable!"

That said, he leaves the room, closing the door. I'm wrapped in darkness again. I immediately reopen my files- uh, all these switches from dark to light aren't good for my sight! I hope to find what I need. In my career as a hacker, I've never been able to threaten someone really powerful like the president of Panem. Snow knew how to protect himself, but what about the new president, Mr. Falcon Smith? He has presented himself as a honest man, emphasizing how he's exactly the opposite of his predecessor. But is it possible that he has no skeleton in his closet? I don't think so…

…...

_The day before the Reaping_

_Ponce Rossi (18)- Citizen of District 6_

I look out of the window, at the cloudy afternoon that looms over District 6. I feel so depressed at the moment, but I know it's counter-productive. Actually, I'm receiving patients who need psychological advice… as if I hadn't any problems myself. Well, I cannot be considered as a real psychologist, since I haven't graduated yet, but that's my dream, that's what I was born for. For the moment, I'm serving as a simple consultant in order to spare money to enrol at university. Many of my patients are the ex-patients of my father, who has retired. Actually, he's not that old, he could still work, but, after fighting in the war, he didn't feel like it, not with a crippled leg and PTSD. That's why my mother has to work full-time.

I hear a knock at the door.

"Come in," I say, while sitting on the chair beside the patients' couch.

A boy enters the room- tall, athletic, brown hair, hazel eyes.

"Good afternoon, Ponce," he greets me with a kind smile on his rosy lips.

"R-rodeo," I stammer, embarrassed.

I didn't expect to see him. I grab my agenda on the desk beneath. I always mark all the appointments on it. Is it possible that I overlooked his name? No way! Not _his _name!

"I have no appointment, if that's what you're looking for. I hope it's okay," he says, while scratching behind his ear.

_Umm… a sign of embarrassment…_

"Yeah, it's okay, you can stay. Please, take a seat," I reply. I fetch my notebook, and put away my agenda. "What's the problem, Rodeo?" I ask him.

I'm trying to sound untroubled, but I have to admit that I'm quite curious and eager to help him.

"Maybe it's just a false alarm, but… I think… I suspect that my boyfriend is cheating on me," he explains.

"What? No way!" I unwillingly reply, my pitch a bit higher than I intended.

_Gosh! I spoke without thinking! Calm down, Ponce! You must look untroubled! You're NOT emotionally involved, okay?_

Rodeo stares at me. "Is it so surprising?"

"It is," I admit. "What makes you think that he's cheating on you?"

"Well, I'd say his behaviour. He has… a different attitude… yeah, a different attitude towards me, he's more detached now than he was when we got together."

I can tell by his tone that talking about all this is hard for him. Therefore, I try to console him: "It may happen in a relationship, but this doesn't necessarily mean that your partner is cheating on you."

"It's not just that… I saw him with some girls, and his attitude was… I don't know… what if he wasn't really homosexual? What if I was just- let's say- a sort of experiment, a new experience he wanted to have, and now he was sick of me?"

"I don't think so, I know Ferrari very well, and he's not like that. In any case, the best thing to do in such cases is talking face-to-face," I say, even though my recent experience can prove that I'm wrong about Ferrari.

Actually, when I confessed to him that I'm in love with Rodeo, he did not hesitate to take him away from me; and since he's far more self-confident and audacious than I am, he even succeeded. I thought Ferrari was my best friend, and I was really envious of his relation to Rodeo, but now? What do I feel now? I feel so outraged by Rodeo's revelation that I could storm out of the room, and seek Ferrari just for the pleasure of punching him in the face! However, I must be professional, so I keep my feelings inside. Rodeo needs my help, and I'll do my best to fix things.

"I don't even know how to introduce the subject," he rebuts, forlorn.

"I could organize a meeting… maybe tomorrow, after the Reaping… with the excuse of celebrating the fact that we will be no longer eligible. What do you think?" I offer.

"Would you really do it?"

"I'd do anything for you… for you two."

Rodeo hugs me. "Oh, Ponce! Thank you very much! You can't imagine how much this means to me!"

_No, I can't. But I know what it would cost me, if I succeed…_

He leaves some money on my desk. "Have a nice day!" he says eventually, taking his leave.

Luckily, I have no time to think of how self-sabotaging I am, since my next patient is already here. It's a girl- fifteen years old, almond-shaped eyes, long, dark hair, slightly olive skin. Her name is Futaba Nakamura, and she's one of my regular patients. She spends all her time indoors, glued to her computer screen. She doesn't even go to school. She seems almost… I don't know… afraid of being outdoors, or maybe she simply doesn't care. In any case, I want to know why.

"Nice to see you, Futaba. So, have you been outdoors recently?" I begin.

"I made the effort to come here. Isn't that enough?" she rebuts, taking her seat.

I sigh. Futaba is always so sullen! Okay, this gonna be a loooong appointment…

…...

_Present day_

_Futaba Nakamura (15)- Citizen of District 6_

My uncle comes to wake me up early this morning. He opens the curtains of a sudden, letting in the daylight. In response, I groan. I pull up the blankets, covering also my head. But my uncle clearly doesn't want to let me sleep, since he pulls the bed sheets back. Uh, I hate daylight! Honestly, I see myself as a nocturnal creature.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" he urges me.

I groan again. "It's Reaping day. How can you be so enthusiastic?"

"I'm not enthusiastic about the Reaping itself, of course, but today you'll go out a bit at least, since you have no choice," he explains.

I snort.

"Come on, breakfast's ready!" he adds.

I get out of bed and dress up- a grey hoodie, a black T-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, and my wonderful, white sneakers. I comb my long hair in a ponytail. No make-up, no jewels, just myself, and they'd better be content with that. Once ready, I join my uncle in the kitchen.

When he sees me, he immediately complains about my outfit: "Futaba! You cannot go out dressed like that!"

"Of course I can, and I will. This is it or nothing," I reply.

"That's disrespectful!" he insists.

"This is just _your _opinion," I retort.

He sighs. "Please, try to behave well at least today."

"Today is a day like any other. Or maybe not. After all, today they will remind us of how powerless we are, of how much we deserve to be punished for rebelling. My parents died by them, and you still think that we should show respect…"

"I'm just careful, I don't want to draw attention. But you don't care at all, right? You seem to like dangers, but you never think that your actions could hurt those who love you…"

I'd like to rebut, but the words don't come, so I just sit silently at the table in order to have breakfast- toasted bread with jam and butter. My uncle keeps quiet as well. After finishing breakfast (always in silence), we head to the main square for the Reaping. Since we live nearby, we can go by foot. Once there, I present myself to the peacekeepers, then join the fifteen-year-old section. I'm looking forward to coming back home! I hate being outdoors, and it's not a psychological problem as my uncle and Ponce certainly think. I don't feel secure outdoors, not after my parents died there, that's it.

My thoughts are interrupted by the escort's arrival- a man who's wearing a black top hat with a sort of silver cogwheel attached on the left, aviator glasses, a black redingote that seems to be made of feathers, black trousers, and boots. His name is Angel Storm, a known face in Six.

"Good morning, District 6! Welcome to the Reaping of the 76th annual Hunger Games! I think that we can skip the reading of the Treaty of Treason, because we all know why we're here, right?"

That's an unconventional beginning! Not that I'm complaining.

"There's great enthusiasm about this edition in the Capitol, we have also a new Head Gamemaker, so let's call the tributes of this year onstage!" he goes on, while he's moving closer to the girls' ball.

Everyone in the square is holding their breath.

"Futaba Nakamura!"

"WHAT?" I shout.

The crowd around me parts. Now, I'm in plain sight. I'd like to run away, but I know that it wouldn't work. I have no choice but leave my section and mount the stage.

"You look quite puzzled, dear," comments the escort, once I stand next to him.

"Maybe I've got something better to do than making a school trip to Capitol City," I rebut, annoyed.

"Ahahah! A school trip! Very funny! Does anyone want to volunteer?"

No answer.

"It's boys' turn, then… Ponce Rossi!"

_Ponce!? Oh, great! I really needed a psychologist as my district partner!_

I cannot help but widen my eyes when I see him. His outfit is so ridiculous! Who does he want to impress? He's wearing a red shirt, black trousers with overalls, dark shoes, a blue beret, and a blue bowtie.

"Volunteers?" asks the escort.

No answer.

"Very well, then! It seems that we have a pair of peculiar tributes this year, Futaba Nakamura and Ponce Rossi! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

We enter the Justice Building immediately after the Reaping. The waiting room where visitors can come to say goodbye is basically an empty room with just a pair of couches. I sit on one of them, waiting for my uncle. I know he will come, but I don't know what to tell him. My expectations are quickly satisfied, in fact. My uncle enters the waiting room with reddish eyes. At first, we just stare at each other. I'd like to say something, but I'm still offended since our argument of this morning.

_Ah, to hell with pride! It could be the last time I see him!_

I get up, and approach him. "I'll do my best to win, I promise," I say, embarrassed.

Definitely a cliché, but what else could I tell him, after all?

He hugs me in response. "First your parents, and now you…"- he sighs- "…it's so unfair! Haven't we suffered enough? I can only imagine how disoriented you must be at the moment, Futaba, but, believe me, I'll be supporting you. I know it's hard for you, but you need to socialize, to find some allies… Ponce could help you…"

I break his embrace, thus interrupting his speech. "I can do better on my own, but I'll try to join an alliance, if this can reassure you."

"It can, thanks. Surround yourself with people you can trust. I know there's no need to say such things, you're a smart girl, you can understand them by yourself, just…"

"I'll be careful, don't worry."

At this point, a peacekeeper enters the room to tell us that we ran out of time. As my uncle is being escorted off, he says: "Remember that I love you, Futaba!"

"Me too."

Now, I'm alone, but I don't mind. Better alone than in bad company… and this applies perfectly to the Games. My uncle told me to find trustworthy allies, but who can I really trust? The answer is nobody. Once in the arena, my fellow tributes will all try to kill me, even Ponce. I'm sorry for my uncle, but I'm not going to join any alliance. I can try to be friendly, but just to find the weak points of the other tributes. There will be no friends in the arena, just enemies. Who knows? I could make it, but I must be careful; information may help, but it might turn out to be a two-edged sword too.

…...

_Ponce Rossi (18)- District 6 male tribute_

This could be a pleasant family meeting, if it weren't for the Hunger Games, if it weren't for the fact that my father cannot be here with me because of his syndrome. Being all three together- my parents and I- is such a rare event! Now that I'm a tribute, it could never happen again. But if I won, things would be different. I would concretely be able to help my family, and this fact consoles me a bit. There is still hope.

"Oh, Ponce! My Ponce! Please, do your best to come back home! I wouldn't stand to lose you!" says my mother, while she's hugging me.

"I'll do my best, mum," I reply, crying even more than she.

"You're a good boy, but I don't know if goodness is useful out there… just try not to lose yourself, okay? Your family will always love you, whatever happens," she goes on.

"Thank you very much. Your support is important, it will me my strength there. But you'll need to be strong as well, mum. What will you tell my father?"

She breaks our embrace, and wipes away her tears. "The truth, Ponce, what else? We cannot afford a real expert yet, but your father will need to face the fact that his son is going to the Capitol sooner or later. I'll tell him what happened at the Reaping, and I'll help him overcome this bad time along with his doctor. But you don't need to worry about all this, Ponce, I want you to focus on the Games, okay?"

"When I'll win, I'll take him to the Capitol to heal, I promise!"

She smiles, but it's a sad smile. "You're a good boy, my son, you're a good boy," she repeats, almost whispering.

After she's gone, Rodeo visits me. Rodeo but not Ferrari.

"Oh, Ponce! I'm so sorry for what happened! If only I volunteered!" he says.

I shake my head. "I wouldn't let anyone volunteer for me, especially not a dear friend," I rebut, putting my hand on his shoulder.

_Maybe it's a bit too audacious. Ah! Why am I not so brave on other occasions?_

"If there's something I can do for you, please tell me," he continues, in a pleading tone.

Clearly, he feels guilty, even if he's blameless.

_Oh, I feel so bad for him! Please, Rodeo, stop it!_

"Hey, you came to visit me, that's the best thing you could do. It's me who should apologize, by the way: I promised to help you with Ferrari, but I won't keep my word."

Yeah, that's what I promised him, but I secretly hoped to fail, I secretly hoped to use this situation to share my feelings with Rodeo.

"It's not your fault, Ponce. I know that if you could, you would help me even right now," he rebuts with a slight smile.

_No, Ponce, you cannot confess your feelings now, it would be just cruel!_

"You're a dear friend, Rodeo, I really wanted to help you. I hope you'll manage to fix things."

"When you'll come back, everything will be okay. I know you'll fight hard. This is not a farewell," he says with the most tender smile I've ever seen.

* * *

**So, another Reaping done, other two tributes introduced (both by _santiagoponcini20_). I have to admit that I like these two especially for their background… complicated stories behind them and interesting personalities. If you had to choose the winner between them, who would you prefer?**

**As for my next updates for this story, I will skip District 7 for the moment, because its submissions are still incomplete. I wrote to the tributes' creator, and I'll let you know. Anyway, I will present the remaining districts in this order: 8, 9, 10, 12, 7 (if the creator doesn't answer before I finish 12, District 7 will be available again).**

**Thank you a lot for reading! I'll be waiting for your submissions! **


	12. D8: the Model and the Secret Doctor

**Hi, everyone! The cast of this story is officially complete! Thanks to everyone who submitted a tribute!**

**Enjoy your reading :)**

* * *

_The day before the Reaping_

_Nyra Liberty (14)- Citizen of District 8_

I'm watching my silly cousin Iora, while her mother Elvira is adjusting her dress. My aunt runs an important fashion magazine, and she has chosen her daughter as a model for her last collection… just for a change. Yeah, with her curly, blonde hair, blue eyes, fair complexion, and skinny figure, who wouldn't think that she's the perfect model, after all? Ah, bullshit! If people knew how spoiled, perfectionist, and irritating Iora is, they would see her in a whole different light!

"These sleeves have to be worn a little further down, Iora, your shoulders should be naked! You know, this style will be the last word in fashion, or my name is not Elvira Liberty!" says my aunt.

"Yes, mum," replies Iora with a smile.

Oh, really? She's never so condescending!

"Okay, that's good! Wait here, I'll fetch a matching ribbon to tie your hair! I want to take as many photos as possible today! You know, tomorrow, with the Reaping… oh, if only we could finish the service today!" she goes on, while she's leaving the room, bouncing in her high heels.

Once she's gone, Iora addresses me: "Nyra, get me a glass of water, please. I'm really thirsty."

"Hey! I'm not your servant, you can do it yourself!" I reply, annoyed.

Who does she think she is? Not my boss, that's for sure!

"I cannot move from here. You know how angry mama gets, when you don't do what she wants," she insists.

"Tell her that she cannot always have whatever she wants!"

"Oh, Nyra, it's just a little favour, I can't see why you don't want to do it!" she complains.

"It's a matter of principle! People like you are so used to being served that they completely lack in humility, and treat others as if they were nobodies!"

"People like me?"

"Oh, please, don't pretend you didn't understand!"

"No, I didn't for real."

"Loyalists! That's what I'm talking about! It's because of people like you and your parents that tomorrow we will all stand in that damn square, and two kids will be taken away for the damn Hunger Games! But you don't care, right? You're still the lapdogs of the Capitol! Oh, supporting the Capitol is so easy, when your belly is full!" I blurt out all in one breath, so, when I finish speaking, I feel the need to breathe deeply.

"Quite the opposite, Nyra. Anyway, it's not my fault, if your parents died. They winded up on the wrong side, but this didn't prevent us from accepting you and Tag in our house. A little gratitude wouldn't hurt," she points out.

Oh, how much she likes judging others! Yeah, my brother and I moved to her house after the war, but it was her family who insisted on that… only to get on us for being their debtors, of course. They've never said that aloud, but I know they all think that we're their debtors to some extent. This doesn't mean, however, that I'll let them push me around! We don't need their help; Tag is twenty, he's old enough to look after me… if only he wasn't a damn drug addict!

"My parents believed in a better world, in a world without the Capitol scaring us with their Games! They wanted to make it also for people like you, so don't you dare insult them! You may be a privileged girl, my dear cousin, but you could end up in the Games like anybody else of Reaping age, and the money of your family wouldn't save your life out there!" I say, right before storming out of the room.

…...

_4 years ago_

_Truett Wilson (12)- Citizen of District 8_

It's a sunny afternoon, but I'm not going to spend it outdoors, as many would expect from a boy of my age. Actually, I think that nature is mocking me: the sun is shining in all its beauty, but I'm suffering. Yeah, I know it's nobody's fault, and that nature is not mocking me, yet I cannot help but look for a scapegoat. The truth is that I feel immensely guilty. My father died of a heart attack right the day before my first Reaping. I was with him, but I couldn't do anything. I'd like to become a doctor, but I couldn't do anything… anything! But it won't happen again! Since then, I've devoted myself to reading as many books as possible so that I'll be able to help my family, if necessary. I've got some books at home, but they're not enough, that's why I usually spend my free time at the public library... like today.

I'm heading to the library, but then I see a little boy sitting on the ground, all alone in one corner. He's whining, his hand put on his knee. He must have hurt himself.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, while approaching him.

He looks up. "It's nothing, just…"

I kneel down. "Let me see…"

He reluctantly gets his hand off his knee. There's a graze on it. He's bleeding, but the wound is not serious.

"Umm, nothing serious, don't worry," I remark with a smile.

I pull a handkerchief out of my bag, and wet it using my bottle of water. I clean the wound.

"How did you hurt?" I ask the boy, while I'm working.

"It was just a stupid race with my friends. The first to get to the river won. My friends run faster than me; I tried to catch up with them, but I fell down," he explains, without looking at me.

By his tone, I can tell that he feels ashamed.

In fact, he has some scratches also on his hands. I clean them as well. Once all his wounds are cleaned, I tie another handkerchief around the boy's knee, thus making a makeshift bandage. I tie it tight in order to stop the bleeding, but not too much tight, of course. It's a bandage, not a tourniquet, after all. Besides, bandages should permit some freedom of movement.

"Okay, it's done. But, when you go home, ask somebody to change the bandage, if the wound starts bleeding again. If not, you can just remove it. Remember that your skin has to breathe, it will heal faster, okay?" I say.

He nods in response. I help him to stand up.

"Are you a doctor?" he asks me.

I smile. "Sort of."

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome. Try to be more careful next time, and don't mind your friends, you'll outrun them sooner or later."

"I hope so," he says with a smile, and then walks away.

"You did a good job," comments a voice behind my back.

I turn around. It's a woman in her sixties, with grizzled hair combed in a low bun, and deep hazel eyes.

"Thank you, but I did nothing special, Mrs. …"

"Springer. But, please, call me Ruth. And you're wrong, kid, not everyone would have stopped to help that boy, and in the way you did it," she replies. Then, she adds: "You've got a talent."

"Talent?"

"Keep me company for a walk, please."

"Well, my mother always tells me not to trust strangers," I say.

I feel uneasy.

"That's a wise suggestion, kid, but what harm could this old lady ever do to you?" she rebuts with a wide smile.

"Okay," I say, and I follow her in her walk.

"You told the boy that you're a sort of doctor, right?"

Oh, does she want to report me for acting as a doctor?

She must have understood that I'm scared, because she adds with a cheerful voice: "Don't worry, kid, I'm just curious. If you don't want to answer, feel free to keep silent."

Now, I feel somehow reassured. "Well, I'd like to become a doctor, but I'm not a doctor, of course… not yet, at least. I've already read many books, anyway."

"Well, that's a starting point, but you'll need to study hard, and gain practical experience, if you want to realize your dream. I could help you."

"Really? How?"

"I was a doctor in the past, before retiring," she explains.

"Wow! That's great!" I say, excited.

"Tell me… why do you want to be a doctor?" she asks me.

This question saddens me, and Ruth notices that.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be indiscreet," she apologizes.

"It's okay. My father died, and I couldn't help him… so I thought that... I thought that I couldn't let it happen again to someone else I love," I go on, trying to hold back my tears.

"That speaks for you. I'll be glad to help you."

"Thank you, Mrs. … ehm, Ruth. But my mother disapproves my ambition; I can read in peace, only when she's not around."

"You shouldn't let anybody clip your wings! I could train you in secret, if you want. What do you think?"

…...

_Present day_

_Iora Liberty (14)- Citizen of District 8_

I look at my reflection in the long wall mirror of my room. For the Reaping, I've decided to wear a sleeveless, orange dress with a white sash around my waist, high heels, and a white headband with a little ribbon on it. But there's something wrong. Since I'm wearing high heels and a sash, I should look not only higher but also thinner than I am, yet I don't. I feel a wave of frustration and anger bubbling inside of me. I'd like to take a chair, and use it to smash the mirror, but it would be useless. Besides, I don't want to risk hurting myself with shards of glass.

My mother enters the room to see if I'm ready. "Oh, dear, you look great! I'm glad that you've decided to follow my advice about naked shoulders," she says, kissing my cheek.

"Mum, do you think that I should lose weight? I'd look better in pictures, don't you think?" I reply, gazing again at the mirror.

"Oh, dear, no! I've tailored my collection to your current size! It would be a disaster! Now, come have breakfast, and don't think of losing weight! That's ridiculous!"

"Well, I'm not that hungry, to be sincere. I'll stay here to make up. I want to look my best at the Reaping!"

"As you wish," she replies, while leaving the room.

My cousin Nyra makes her appearance on the threshold. "You're so skinny that you risk disappearing," she says.

"Eavesdropping is impolite," I retort, but she just walks away with a shrug, without adding anything else.

When everyone's ready, we head together to the main square. I've never taken out tesserae, so there are only three slips of paper with my name in the Reaping ball. Nothing compared to the situation of many others. I'm neither scared nor worried, because I know that the odds are in my favour. I join the other fourteen-year-olds in our section along with Nyra, who doesn't utter a word. Some girls turn to me to watch my dress. Outfits give you many clues on social status, especially if your district is specialized in textiles. I wonder what those girls feel for me right now. Envy? Anger? Or admiration?

My thoughts are interrupted by the mayor, who fiercely mounts onstage, but limits himself to read the Treaty of Treason, without adding any personal comment. Despite the second rebellion, the text hasn't been changed. The Hunger Games haven't been changed neither, I suppose. When the mayor finishes reading, he leaves the word to the escort- a man who's wearing a costume made of pieces of different kinds of fabric- and takes his seat.

"Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games, District 8! Seventy-six years of glorious tradition that we're going to continue! Aren't you excited?" begins the escort, but the crowd keeps silent. He resumes his speech, nonetheless: "I'm sure we're all curious to know who the tributes of this year will be, so let's call them onstage! Ladies first!"

He approaches the girls' ball, while the whole square is staring at him, mesmerized. "Iora Liberty!"

What? No, it can't be, I must have misheard the name! Nyra turns slightly to me; her expression is unreadable, but, when our eyes meet, I understand that I haven't misheard anything. The escort has called precisely my name!

_Courage, Iora! Pretend you're just parading! Spine straight, chin up…_

I make my way through the crowd, and mount the stage.

"Oh, we have a little queen here! But, dearie, let me say that you should eat more, you look like a skeleton! But, you'll see, once in the Capitol…" comments the escort.

_How annoying!_

He approaches the boys' ball, but I clear my throat: "Ahem… you should ask for volunteers, first. No passage should be skipped, or this is not a proper Reaping, right?"

Someone in the crowd giggles.

"Oh, dearie, believe me, if someone wanted to volunteer for you, she would already have done it. I've got a certain experience in those things," he rebuts, a little annoyed due to my interruption. In fact, he picks up a slip from the boys' ball without any further ado. "Truett Wilson!"

A boy emerges from the sixteen-year-old section- dark blonde hair, blue eyes, thin, tall for his age.

"Welcome onstage, Truett!" says the escort, but Truett ignores him.

His eyes are fixed on me. I'm used to being looked at, but his gaze disturbs me somehow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District 8, Iora Liberty and Truett Wilson! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

We enter immediately the Justice Building, where we're assigned a separate waiting room, which is just an empty room. Actually, there are only two couches, if you want to sit down. This room is the last place tributes see before leaving for the Capitol. They could furnish it in a better way, after all. I can't believe I'm here! Three slips out of thousands, and the escort picked up one of them! I'm going to the Capitol, the fancy city that rules our country. I must admit that I've always dreamed of visiting it, but definitely under different circumstances.

My parents enter the room. I rush to them. They hug me.

My mother speaks first: "Oh, Iora! You… you were great… if only…"

She's stammering, because she's trying to hold back her tears. Tears are a sign of weakness, and they ruin your makeup. I feel somehow reassured by this realization: my parents will stay the same, whatever happens.

"Our family is loyal to the Capitol. Tell them that," recommends my father.

He's about to cry as well.

They talk a bit about strategy, about what I should and I shouldn't do, then they leave me alone. Nyra and Tag won't come to say goodbye, I know it… I just wonder… what have I done to be hated so much? I just want to be loved. If only my parents were less cold, if only I could let myself be vulnerable with someone…

…...

_Truett Wilson (16)- District 8 male tribute_

I cannot stop thinking of my district partner. She's so skinny… anorexia, no doubt. She wore fancy clothes, so it's not poverty the root of her condition, but a deeper, psychological distress that makes her reject food. I've heard that anorexic people eat, and then they stick a finger down their throat to throw up what they've just eaten. It must be horrible. I wonder how I can help her. To be sincere, I know more about physiology than psychology. But I'll manage to help her somehow, I cannot abandon her! A true doctor wouldn't, right?

My thoughts are interrupted by my first visitor: my mother. She immediately hugs me, teary.

"Oh, Truett!"

That's the only thing she can say, since she bursts into tears immediately afterwards.

"Don't worry, mum… e-everything… gonna be okay," I stammer, as tears starts flooding also from my eyes.

I try to sound self-confident but in vain, my voice is quivering.

"How can you say that?"

"I'm good at identifying plants, and I can run fast thank to my long legs. If I find a good hiding place, I'll be able to stay out of danger. See? There's still hope. Besides, if I get hurt, I'll be able to self-medicate, because…" I start explaining, but she breaks our embrace of a sudden, thus interrupting me.

"Yeah, because you've disobeyed me, you've continued seeing that woman!"

"She's just helping me to realize my dream! Something that you're not doing!" I rebut, but then I bite my lip. This could be the last time I talk with my mother, I shouldn't behave like that. "Sorry," I immediately apologize, looking down.

She puts her hands on my shoulders. "You want to become a doctor out of guilt, Truett, but it's not your fault, if your father died! That's what I want you to understand!"

"You're wrong, mum," I retort, watching her right in the eye.

She sighs. "A boy of your age should have fun with his friends, not study all day! You've got no friends, Truett! You spend your free time only with that woman! She's not a good friend for you! She hates the Capitol, and it may be dangerous!" she goes on.

At this stage, a peacekeeper enters the room. "Time's up!" he shouts.

"No! I cannot leave my son like that! Truett!" my mother shouts back, but the peacekeeper shoves her unceremoniously out of the room.

I rush to the door, but he slams it in my face. "Mum! I love you! I'll come back, I promise!" I scream, my sight blurred by tears.

My second visitor is Ruth.

"Oh, dear kid, what a terrible situation!" she says, handing me her handkerchief to wipe away my tears.

"Thank you for coming, Ruth."

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," she replies with a sad smile.

"Don't worry about me, I'll do my best to make it," I say.

"I know you will."

We sit on the couches. All I need now is taking everything out, so I just burst into tears, burying my head in Ruth's lap. She keeps silent, while stroking my hair. When we run out of time, I'd like to give her handkerchief back to her, but she shakes her head.

"You keep it," she says, and then leaves the room.

I look at the handkerchief, because a detail catches my eye: there's an image of a bird- a robin- on it.

* * *

**So, the tributes of District 8 are Iora Liberty (by _santiagoponcini20_) and Truett Wilson (by _OrdinaryChildOfTheKing_). What's the root of Iora's distress in your opinion? Do you think that Truett will be able to help her?**

**Thank you a lot for reading and reviewing :)**


	13. D9: the Nice and the Poet

_Present day_

_Tiana Golding (17)- Citizen of District 9_

I'm sweating. My breathing is heavy. There's almost complete silence around me. I can hear only the rustling of leaves due to a gentle breeze coming from the east. That's how a fight works. It is made of actions and breaks. You attack, you defend yourself, you study your opponent- in this case, a girl with flaming red air, deep brown eyes, and athletic build. Her cheeks are flushed because of the exertion. It feels like watching a tiger- you cannot help but admire her beauty, even though you know how dangerous she can be. At some point, she puts one leg in front of the other, getting her weight over her front foot. She's ready to resume the fight. I just need to wait, and then dodge her blow.

"Aaaaah!" she shouts to pump up.

She charges at me, wielding her baton. I block her blow with mine, and then counterattack, but in vain. She tries to hit my legs, but I dodge with agile leaps. At some point, I stub her toe. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, I use my baton to make her stumble and fall to the ground.

"Hey! That was unfair!" she groans.

"You cannot always expect your opponent to play fair, Rye," I reply.

I stretch my hand out to help her get up.

"You're right!" she says, pulling my arm.

I lose balance, and fall to the ground. I immediately roll belly up, trying to defend myself, but Rye is already over me, and blocks my arms and legs. She caresses my cheek, and then kisses me.

"Hey! Treacherous kiss!" I complain, trying to free myself.

She giggles in response. She loosens her grip, so we can both get up again.

"Good job," I compliment her.

"You too. I think it's enough for the moment, but we could train again this afternoon. What do you think?" she offers.

"But you never get tired of training?"

"Training is our best bet… you know, in case…"

"I know it."

In case we got reaped, we would have more chances of surviving. Today, there's our penultimate Reaping. I hope everything gonna be alright. I don't want to end up in the Games… I don't want anyone I know to end up like that, especially not Rye. She's my girlfriend, and I wouldn't know what to do without her.

"Ah! To hell with the Reaping! Would you like a beer?" she offers.

"Sure," I reply, smiling.

I sit at the table on the wooden porch. Rye's house is really nice. It belonged to her dead mother. It is located in one of the small villages scattered among the golden wheat fields. A house on two floors and with its piece of land, where Rye grows vegetables. Her products cost less compared to those coming from District 11, and they're fresh and not frozen, in addition. In fact, she has no rivals at the market. Her condition is not that bad compared to that of the majority of District 9. On the other hand, I know that some landowners have proposed to her to sell her piece of land, but she has refused, and I totally agree with her. Many landowners remained loyal to the Capitol during the war, and they even sabotaged rebels. Among them, there are also those who made their own fortune in this way. They're nicknamed " the new rich"- greedy people, who would like to possess all the lands available, even those of poor people who struggle to make a living. I cannot stand them!

Rye emerges from the kitchen with a pair of beer bottles. The bitter taste combined with the freshness of the beer relaxes me.

"You know, sometimes I envy you. You've got your house, you're independent..." I say.

She shrugs. "Just because my mother left me all this. I often wonder what having a real family means."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you _have _a family, okay?"

She smiles in response, and then takes another sip of beer. "I'd be lost without you, Tiana," she replies.

"That's for sure!" I joke, giggling.

She bursts out laughing as well. I love these moments. Rye is always nice and smiling, but I know that deeper down she's still suffering for her mother's death. She was a great woman, who had managed- don't know how- to live many years with an abusive husband until she found the strength to get divorced. Rye has never confessed it, but I suspect that her father was abusive also to her during her childhood. That's the most disgusting thing that I can think of!

My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of a little girl, who's shyly waiting outside the house now. She's dressed in rags, and has messy, blonde hair and blue eyes. She looks alarmingly pale and underfed. Rye isn't worried though, she seems to know her.

"Hi, Angelica. I'll be back in a minute," she greets the little girl.

Rye goes inside, and returns with a wrap in her hands. She gives it to Angelica.

"Oh, thank you, Rye, thank you very much!" replies the girl, grateful.

"You're welcome."

The little girl walks away. Rye sits again at the table.

"Angelica is an orphan; she lost both her parents due to the war, and has two younger brothers to look after. So, I save up some food and money for her," she explains.

"You're always so nice, Rye. But maybe you should call the peacekeepers, those siblings cannot live like that!" I rebut.

"No, they would end up in a community home, and those places are worse than hell."

"They could join that new project launched by President Smith," I point out.

"The Repopulation Project? Ah, I don't believe it will work!"

"Why not? I've heard that the supervisor is doing well here in Nine."

"It doesn't convince me, that's all."

I take another sip of beer. "Because this project is supported by the Capitol?"

She doesn't say anything in response, she just looks away.

"Okay, I'll give up! I've seen that you don't want to talk about that. I'd better go home, and have a shower before the Reaping," I say.

Rye watches me again. She looks sad. "Okay, see you later, then."

"Remember to wear something nice!"

"Okay," she replies with a slight smile on her lips.

…...

_Some months before the Reaping_

_Alder Polliark (48)- Supervisor of the Repopulation Project in District 9_

I put the key in the lock, and turn it. We enter our new house. It's quite nice and definitely larger than the flat we had in the Capitol. Many believe that all Capitolites are filthy rich, but it's not exactly like that; there are many people like me and my family who have just an average income, and that cannot afford all those surgical alterations that are so popular in the Capitol. Nevertheless, getting used to living in an outer district like Nine won't be easy for my family.

I've been assigned an important job, if not prestigious: I am the supervisor of the Repopulation Project in District 9. Even though the war lasted only some months, it has decimated the population of Panem, so our new president has launched this project to promote demographic growth. The first phase consists of making people move to those districts whose population rate has plunged the most (like District 12, for instance). In a second stage, the government will provide incentives for couples who decide to have children *****. In any case, someone has to make sure that the rules are followed, and that nobody tries to profit from this project; that's precisely my job, that's why I've moved to District 9 along with my family.

"So, here we are. I hope we'll settle in soon, though I doubt it. Alejandro has asked me if there's a cinema nearby… a cinema here!? We're not in the Capitol!" says my wife.

I nod. "We'll do our best. A simpler life isn't necessarily a bad thing," I reply.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for your new job, but moving to a district will disrupt our lives to a certain degree. I mean, the districts have just lost the war, will they be able to accept us? Besides, our sons have to attend school here now, and I don't want them to be discriminated," she goes on, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"A little discrimination is unavoidable, you know how cruel teenagers can be. But our sons are strong, they'll make friends sooner or later."

"I hope so."

Suddenly, Alejandro enters the hal,l and starts running around.

"Wow! This house is huge! I want to see my bedroom!" he shouts enthusiastically, while running upstairs.

"Ale! Don't run! Where's your brother, by the way?" says my wife, following him.

Yes, where's Xantinus? I haven't seen him enter the house. I look outside the front door, which is still wide open. Xantinus is sitting on the steps leading to the hall. He's writing something on his notebook. Knowing him, he's probably writing a poem. Xantinus is indeed the kind of boy who likes isolating himself to collect his thoughts and perceptions. He defines these moments as "artistic". I know he wouldn't like anyone to disturb him right now, but he usually writes poems when he feels sad and nostalgic, and I don't want him to feel like that.

I approach him, and sit down on the steps next to him. "Hey, Xanti. Is everything okay?" I ask my son.

He nods in response, without looking away from his notebook.

"Why don't you enter to see our new house? You'd better join your brother upstairs, otherwise he will choose the largest room for himself," I go on.

"He can choose the room he wants, I'm indifferent to that," he replies.

I sigh. "Xantinus, I know that this situation is difficult…"

He interrupts me: "I just miss home and my friends, but you don't need to worry about that."

I take a look at what he's writing, and see the name "Rodrick". It must be Rodrick de La Cruz, Xanti's closest friend when we lived in the Capitol.

"Rodrick's family applied for a transfer. I could offer them to move to District 9, what do you think?"

In response, Xanti looks at me. His eyes light up. "Would you really do it? You're not joking, are you?"

"I'm serious," I reply with a smile.

"You would make me happy, father!"

…...

_Present day_

_Rye Freshna (17)- Citizen of District 9_

I have a shower. I'm sweaty due to training with Tiana, and I cannot show up at the Reaping like that. As a matter of fact, people are supposed to look at their best in such occasions. It's a bit macabre, though… I mean, you basically dress well for your own funeral… at least, this applies to one of the future tributes. Anyway, I should try to think positive. Yes, I've got some extra slips with my name in the Reaping ball, but I'm trained- not as well as a Career, but better than nothing. Even if I get reaped, I'll stand a chance, after all.

I get out of the shower. I wrap a white towel around my wet body, then I dry my hair. I know what to wear at the Reaping: a knee-long, sky blue dress. It is short-sleeved and has a V-neck. Tiana says that blue matches the colour of both my eyes and hair. I must look nice enough, then. One thing is certain: the colour of my dress is so bright that I will stand out from the crowd. I use a ribbon to tie my hair. It's not exactly my style- to be sincere, I'm usually a tomboy- but Tiana will be happy to see me in a more girlish outfit.

I head to the bus stop. On Reaping days, District 9 offers a free bus service for those who live away from the main town, where the Reaping takes place. I take the bus along with other eligible kids and their families. There's an unnatural silence that is almost frightening. I can hear only the humming of the bus engine, and the noise of the wheels on the unpaved road. After a trip that was not exactly comfortable- country roads are quite uneven- we finally arrive at destination. I get off the bus, reach the main square by foot, present myself to the peacekeepers, and join the seventeen-year-old section. Tiana is already there. She smiles when she sees me.

"Hey, you look wonderful, Rye!" she compliments me.

"Thank you," I reply, blushing.

I kiss her.

Unfortunately, there's no time for effusions, because the escort from Capitol City mounts the stage, followed by the mayor of District 9. The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, then the escort takes the word. Apparently, she gesticulates a lot, because she never keeps her hands still, neither when she's seated.

"Hi, everyone! I'm really glad to be here for another Reaping!" she basically shouts, as if there was no microphone onstage. "We're all eager to know the tributes of the 76th Hunger Games, I assume, so let's find out who they are! Ladies first!" she continues, approaching the girls' ball.

She plunges her gloved hand into the sea of paper slips, and picks up one of them. _Please, not Tiana…_

"Rye Freshna!"

Luckily, it's not Tiana… but it's me! I look at my girlfriend. She's about to say something, but I immediately silence her: "Don't even think about volunteering," I whisper.

That said, I leave my section, and mount the stage.

"My name is Rye Freshna, and I'm the female tribute of District 9. I don't want anyone to volunteer for me, so we can move on to boys," I say to the mic.

"As you wish, dearie. Your district partner is… Rodrick de La Cruz!"

"I volunteer!" someone shouts, immediately afterwards.

A boy emerges from the eighteen-year-old section. I know who he is, since we attend the same school: he's the elder son of the supervisor. He's Capitolite of birth. If the Games weren't a death sentence, one could consider this situation funny… I mean, an eighteen-year-old from the Capitol is forced to attend only one Reaping in his life, and he ends up in the Games!

"My name is Xantinus Polliark," says my district partner.

"Umm… Polliark? It sounds like a Capitolite surname," comments the escort, a bit uneasy.

"I used to live in the Capitol, but I'm a citizen of District 9 now," he explains.

"Very well! I give you the tributes of District 9, Rye Freshna and Xantinus Polliark! As always, happy Hunger Games! And may the odds the ever in your favour!" she says eventually, eager to finish the ceremony.

We enter the Justice Building. They show me a waiting room, where visitors can come to say goodbye before I leave. There's a peacekeeper standing at the door. I cannot figure out whether it's a man or a woman due to the helmet they're wearing.

I address them: "I want to see only my friend, her name is Tiana. If anyone else comes, please send them way."

Luckily, it doesn't take Tiana long to show up. She immediately hugs me, sobbing. Some tears wet also my cheeks now. I cannot help it. Tiana is the most important person of my life, and I'm about to leave her, maybe forever.

She breaks our embrace after a while. "Why didn't you let me volunteer?" she asks me.

A sad smile forms on my lips. I caress her cheek. "Tiana… you've got a family that loves you, you have more to lose than me. I couldn't let you end up in the arena knowing that it was my fate, and not yours."

"You're part of my family as well, Rye," she rebuts.

Holding back my tears is almost impossible, but I must be strong for Tiana. I put my hands on her shoulders. "I promise you that I'll be careful, and that I'll do anything to come back to you. We have trained a lot together, you know that I've got more possibilities than many others," I say, trying to reassure her.

"I know it… just try not to overestimate your skills, especially if you have to deal with Careers."

I nod. "I'll do my best."

Tiana gives me other tips. Before leaving, she hugs me again. "Good luck, Rye," she whispers.

When Tiana is gone, no one else visits me, as I told the peacekeeper. I just hear activity from outside the room, at some point.

"She's my daughter!" I hear my father shout.

I immediately freeze, but luckily the peacekeeper sends him away. I breathe a sigh of relief. I cannot let my past haunt me, not now that I'm a tribute, not now that the Hunger Games loom over me.

…...

_Xantinus "Xanti" Polliark (18)- District 9 male tribute_

Only one Reaping… we had to attend only one Reaping! And poor Rodrick was reaped! Whoever rules destiny must find it funny, I suppose. I don't know where I found the strength to volunteer, but I did it, that's what matters. Rodrick is safe, and next year he will be no longer eligible.

The arrival of my family interrupts my thoughts.

"We're proud of you, Xanti, you showed great courage at the Reaping," my mother compliments me… there's a hint of sadness in her voice, though.

"The fact that you come from the Capitol should advantage you, so remind them of your origins. You're the first Capitolite tribute in the history of the Games," says my father.

"The escort has already done half the job," I point out.

Yeah, the escort… she's not a woman who goes unnoticed. All that gesticulating was really nerve-racking to see, and her high pitch was the icing on the cake. I can understand now why the districts find Capitolites weird. It makes you wonder… we're used to looking down at district citizens, we consider them uncivilized, but we have never taken into account how they see us. I cannot help but worry about my predicament. Thanks to the escort, everyone in Panem knows that I'm Capitolite of birth, also my fellow tributes. How will they react? How will they behave towards me?

"The Capitol has a special place in your heart, but you're here to represent District 9… things like that will certainly be appreciated during your interview," my father continues.

My parents go on talking about how I should present myself, but they're overlooking the most important thing: I might die. Aren't they sad for that? When I was at the Reaping, I saw the other eligible kids scared to death. In the Capitol, the Games are a form of entertainment, but here in districts they're all afraid of them. There's something wrong with that. Should twenty-five kids really die as a punishment for the rebellion? As a matter of fact, the Games couldn't prevent the districts from rebelling a second time, so what's the point of reintroducing them? The Capitol could certainly find other forms of punishment.

Anyway, my parents don't say a word about the fact that my life is at stake now, only my brother looks a bit sad for my departure. Maybe, they haven't realized yet what's happening.

Once my family is gone, Rodrick visits me. I'm glad to see him, but the way in which he storms in the waiting room suggests that he doesn't reciprocate.

"Why did you volunteer?" he asks me in an angry tone.

I'm taken aback by his behaviour, the only thing I can say is: "You're my best friend."

"Oh, really? I didn't think you were that selfish!"

"Selfish?"

He sighs. "This Reaping was my last occasion to change things. I had even planned to volunteer…"

"Change things?"

"Please, Xanti, stop parroting!" he shouts.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot understand what you want to say," I apologize.

"My family has always been poor, even when we lived in the Capitol. I've spent all my life dreaming of things I could never have. But then we've moved here, and when the 76th Hunger Games was announced, well… I thought that it was a great occasion. But you've ruined everything!" he explains.

Now, I feel guilty, but how could I know that he wanted to be in the Games? He haven't told me anything before! I don't know what to say. I can barely hold his gaze now.

"No need to say anything, I just wanted you to know what I think," he says.

"Rodrick…"

But he slams the door in my face. I cannot follow him, I'm trapped here. I sit on one of the couches of the room. Tears start flooding from my eyes. When a peacekeeper eventually enters the room to accompany me to the train station, my vision is completely blurred. The room looks like a flickering shape.

* * *

**So, another Reaping is done. Special thanks to _Pacecca _(Rye Freshna) and _santiagoponcini20 _(Xantinus Polliark) for submitting the tributes of District 9. I think that one of the most interesting parts of this chapter is Xanti's reflection about how you see people and how you're seen by them. How do you think Xanti will be treated during the Games?**

**Thank you a lot for reading :) **

* * *

***You can find other references to the Repopulation Project in chapter 7 (D1 Reaping) and in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _chapter 6 (D4 Reaping)**


	14. D10: the Broken and the Loyal Shepherd

**Hi, everyone! I'm finally back also with this story! For those who don't follow both my fanfics: I've decided to give priority to ****_Love Is the Deadliest Weapon_****, because I'm going to present the arena soon. This doesn't mean, however, that I won't go on also with ****_Divine Punishment_****, I will just update it less frequently. Thank you for understanding :)**

**And now, enjoy the Reaping of District 10!**

* * *

_3 years ago_

_Rowley Star (15)- Citizen of District 10_

I've always dreamt of becoming a lawyer. I've got a sort of fascination with law… I mean, how could we all live without rules? A society without rules cannot exist, otherwise it's not a society, but just a bunch of selfish animals. The problem with my dream is that I wasn't born in one of the wealthiest families of District 10. Actually, my family runs a little farm, and our income is not enough to afford paying university fees. But I won't give up on my dream so easily! In addition to working at our farm, I do some odd jobs for our neighbours. I'm trying to save as much money as possible, so that I'll be able to pay my tuition one day. For the rest, I devote my free time to reading books- which I borrow from libraries- on the subject… like I'm doing now.

Unfortunately, my reading is interrupted by the arrival of my sister Edith, who enters my room, and unceremoniously takes the book I was reading off my hands. The book in question consists of a series of reports on civil suits between great landowners and small farmers, and I find it really interesting.

"Hey! I was reading!" I protest, indeed.

"You read all the time, you could stop just for once, and focus on what is really important," she rebuts.

"And what is more important than my future?"

She sighs. "Rowley, you read so much that you don't even realize you neglect your own sisters… I don't mind that much, but Sadie does."

Sadie is our little sister of five. She's the most playful member of our family.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask Edith.

"Do you know that Sadie has learned to ride horses?" she replies with another question.

I look down. I feel suddenly ashamed. I must admit that I didn't know it before, I didn't even know that Sadie was interested in horses.

"Now, you see what I mean," says Edith, her voice expressing all her disapproval.

I look at her again. "I've been busy recently," I justify myself.

"Recently!? You're _always_ too busy for your sisters, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with you today? You're never so sullen!"

She decides to ignore my comment, though. "Listen, Sadie wants to go for a ride before dark to show us how good she is. You should really come."

I look out of the window. "Have you seen those dark clouds approaching? It's going to rain soon. In these conditions, you'd better stay home. Besides, if it starts thundering as well, the animals will be scared and nervous," I point out.

"Rowley, you already forgot about her birthday…"

"I'll come another day. Tell Sadie she cannot go now," I say, interrupting her.

"Please, Rowley, come with us! You're the elder sister, Sadie would feel safer!" she begs me.

Actually, I'm not the elder sister for real… I mean, Edith and I are twins, so we're both the elder. However, I've always felt older than Edith in that I'm more mature than her. For instance, she never takes the work at our farm seriously, whereas I do, even though I cannot imagine myself being a cattle rancher for the rest of my life.

"I'm not going to come… not today," I insist.

"Okay, do as you wish! I'll go only with Sadie!" she replies, annoyed.

That said, she throws the book she took away from my hands on my bed, and then leaves the room. I resume my reading, but I cannot concentrate. Do they really need to go for a ride today? Why do I have to go as well? They could wait a little bit… just a little bit! We'll have plenty of time tomorrow! No, they have to go now, right before dinner! Papa will come back home from work soon, tired and hungry… and who will cook dinner for everybody? I, just for a change! I shake my head. From my window, I hear the noise of two horses galloping. Where do my sisters want to go with this weather?

At some point, a storm rolls in. The weather of District 10 is usually dry, but sudden storms aren't uncommon events, especially during summer. I put away my book, and go to the window to see if Edith and Sadie are coming back. But I can see nobody. _Ah, I told her not to go! _I wait for ten minutes, while pacing back and forth… but they're not coming back! I'm a bit worried now. What if they had an accident? No, it can't be! In any case, I cannot wait here. I go downstairs, and get out of the house, heading to the stable. I quickly saddle a horse. I follow the tracks left by my sisters' animals, careless about the pouring rain. Suddenly, I see someone laying on the ground. My blood turns cold in my veins. It's Edith! I immediately dismount, and go kneel down beside her. She must have fainted. But where is her horse? Where's Sadie?

"Edith! Edith!" I call her, while I'm shaking her shoulders.

She doesn't react, though.

I try to lift her body, and… and then I see it. Blood on my hand! Where does it come from? Where… no, it can't be! It's my sister's, and it is flowing from the back of her head. I look down with widened eyes, at the spot where her head laid. There's a rock smeared with blood. I feel dizzy and weak, as if I was about to faint… but then I see Sadie coming along the road. Her caramel-coloured hair is messy, her brown eyes widened with terror. She has bruises on her hands and knees.

"What… what has happened?" I ask, barely able to speak.

"I-I… my horse… my horse was scared… you know, the storm… Edith… s-she tried to soothe it, but it reared… and… and it hit her. It started running faster and faster… I had to jump. How's Edith?" she stammers in response.

What should I tell her?

"Edith… she fell, but she's just unconscious, don't worry. Now, go back home, papa must be there. Tell him to come, please," I reply.

Sadie nods in response. Then, she leaves. Only when I'm alone, I find the courage to look at Edith again. Why am I not crying? My sister has just died… why am I not crying?

…...

_The day before the Reaping_

_Jackal Day (25)- Citizen of District 10_

It's almost sunset. Malachi and I are coming back home from the pastures. Normally, my brother watches over sheep himself, and he's very good at that. Actually, he doesn't even need to have a sheepdog with him, since he can use sticks to control sheep quite easily… but today he seems rather upset, that's why I decided to accompany him.

"You okay, Malachi? You haven't said a word since we left home," I say.

"I'm not very talkative, and you know it. I'm better at listening and observing," he replies.

"Yeah, but today you're even less talkative than usual. Is everything okay?" I insist.

"Nothing important… it's just… it's just the Reaping."

"It's not your first Reaping, and you've never worried about Reapings that much. What has changed?"

"Nothing really… maybe it's just the number of my entries."

"Malachi, you've never taken out tesserae, you're as safe as you can be… unless you went to the Justice Building without me and our sister knowing it…"

That said, I stop. Malachi doesn't notice it at first, so he keeps on walking a little bit. When he eventually realizes that I'm no longer beside him, he turns around. We stare at each other for a while, the only audible noise being the bleating of sheep.

"Malachi, what's up?" I eventually ask him.

"I'll tell you while heading home. We cannot lose sight of our herd. Job first," he replies, and then resumes walking.

I follow my brother, and eventually catch up with him. "You won't get away that easily, and you know it. I'm not the type to give up," I point out.

"Jackal… it's nothing… yesterday, I had a dream… or, rather, a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

"Yes, a nightmare. I-I was reaped… and then… I don't know… I think I was in the arena. I was running, because someone was chasing me, but I don't know who my chaser was, I didn't see him… or her… who knows? Anyway, running was difficult, because there were rocks and brushwood on the ground… actually, I risked tripping many times. I remember that there was a constant background noise- something mighty smashing on the rocks… I think it was the sea," he explains with a quivering voice.

"The sea!? But how…?"

"I know it makes no sense! I've never seen the sea in my life! And yet I believe it was the sea. But the worst part of all is that my hands were bloodstained. In the dream, I killed someone, I'm sure of it," he continues.

"What else did you see in your dream?" I ask him.

"Nothing, I woke up after seeing the blood on my hands," he answers with a shrug.

"It was just a dream, and the probability for it to come true is practically inexistent. You don't need to worry about that," I state, trying to reassure my brother.

"But what if it was a sort of premonition?" he asks.

"You cannot believe in all that stuff, that's not you!" I rebut in a joking tone, but, by the way Malachi gazes at me, I can tell that he truly believes that his nightmare may be a premonition.

"Listen, I'm not saying that I'm 100% sure it will happen for real, just… tomorrow is Reaping day, and I… I-I'm scared," he stammers.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "You said it, you are _scared_. You're just letting your fears overwhelm you, that's all," I reply with a self-confident smile.

In the meantime, we have almost got home. You can already smell the aroma of dinner- our sister Josephine must have cooked cabbage soup… not exactly a delicacy, but that's what Malachi needs in my opinion- a hot meal and a restful night. I truly hope he'll be in a better mood tomorrow, because seeing two poor kids- who will not be him- sent to their deaths at the Reaping won't console him, that's for sure.

…...

_Present day_

_Rowley Star (18)- Citizen of District 10_

I wake up. I pull myself out of bed, and look around me. I still feel disoriented every time I realize I'm in a different room, in a different house. I know I shouldn't feel like that, since I moved here months ago, but I cannot help it. After the death of Edith- _oh, Edith! If only I had come with you that day! You would still be alive, I'm sure of it! _– our father abandoned me and Sadie, so we ended up in a community home. He said it was the best thing for us. I had retreated into myself, and Sadie needed someone competent to look after her… that's what he told us before leaving the community home forever. During the war, we had to run away and hide like many other citizens of Ten. When everything was over, my sister wanted to go look for our father, but I insisted on returning to the community home. Clearly, our father didn't want to look after his daughters, and I couldn't let my sister live on the streets like a lawless criminal. Luckily, Tom and Vixen have adopted us. Since they cannot have children, they were glad to welcome us in their house. They even let us keep our family name. "Rowley Evans" would sound strange to me. Who is Rowley Evans? A stranger… but even Rowley Star sometimes feels a stranger to herself.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at my door. Since the door is open, I can see that it's Vixen.

"Good morning, Rowley. I've brought you some fresh clothes for the Reaping," she says, putting the clothes on my bed.

"Thank you, Vixen," I reply with a smile.

I don't call Vixen mum. My mother died of brain cancer years ago, and I… I don't know… I'm grateful to Vixen, but calling her mum would mean that she has replaced my mother in my heart, right? Luckily, Vixen is understanding.

I look at the clothes she brought me: a pair of jeans, a white tank top, a colourful, flannel jacket, high socks, and boots.

"That top will make you look sexy," she comments.

"What!?" I reply, blushing.

She bursts out laughing in response. I roll my eyes… Vixen and her sense of humour.

I get dressed. Once ready, I look at my reflection in the mirror. I can't help but notice how much I look like my twin sister. The same brown eyes, the same freckles on our faces, the same physique…

_Yeah, twins are said to have a special connection to each other, aren't they? A part of Edith is always with you… or, rather, she would be with you, if you didn't destroy the symbol of your connection… _says a voice inside my head.

Edith and I used to have a heart pendant necklace each. That was the symbol of our special connection that I destroyed in a fit of guilt and anger. We had promised that we would always be there for each other, but I didn't keep my word… yeah, I didn't keep my word that day. I was so focused on myself that I didn't realize I was neglecting my sisters. I used to think that I would have plenty of time to spend with them, but I was wrong. Edith warned me, but I didn't listen to her. I made them wait more and more… until it was too late.

I feel tears running down my cheeks. I look at the mirror again, wiping them away. No, I cannot be weak. I must stay strong, even if it's just a façade, a mask to hide the churning storm of emotions underneath. I must act serious and mature. Yeah, my guilty conscience is slowly driving me crazy, but I can overcome all of this, right?

I go downstairs, and join the others in the kitchen. They're already having breakfast- a generous portion of bacon and eggs, and orange juice. Sadie is wearing an ankle-long, pink dress.

"You look great, princess," I tell her, but she doesn't reply.

Since Edith's death, our relationship has cooled down a lot. She has never said it aloud, but I suspect that she blames me for her death. She's not wrong, in the end. I cannot forgive myself for not going for a ride with them that day. If I had gone, our sister probably wouldn't have had the accident that costed Edith her life.

Anyway, Tom and Vixen are making small talk, trying not to think of the Reaping, I suppose. But the Reaping makes me think of Edith, instead. In the past, we used to stand in the square side by side, hand in hand. It was a way of sticking together… but today I'll be alone, alone and surrounded by strangers. _It won't last long… your last Reaping, and then you won't need to worry about that again_… I keep repeating to myself. Seven slips are not many, right?

After finishing breakfast, we all head to the main square. Once there, I part from my foster parents and Sadie- who's not yet eligible- and join my section. The mayor mounts the stage along with two Capitolites. One must be the escort, but who's the other? After reading the Treaty of Treason, the mayor leaves the word to the escort- a man with short, white hair and eyes who's wearing a frightening, blood red leotard with a V-neck, and white boots. His outfit sparkles in the sun.

"Hello, District 10! My name is Crimson Wilding, and I'll be your escort for this year! Before moving to the Reaping, let me introduce you the man who will mentor your tributes, since Ten has unfortunately no living victors: Charmant Lefauve!" says the escort.

The man in question is in his twenties. I must admit that he's really good-looking- well-proportioned physique, auburn hair, blue eyes, delicate features. He's wearing a dark blue jacket with spiral decorations that seem to be made of gold powder, white trousers, and high boots. But there is something in his eyes… maybe it's the way in which he's scanning the crowd… I don't know… they look like those of a beast ready to capture its prey. They make me feel uncomfortable, that's for sure.

"Now that introductions are made, let's move to the Reaping! Ladies first!" continues the escort, while approaching the girls' ball. "Rowley Star!"

As soon as my name is called, I hear a roll of thunder inside my head. _No, it can't be… Edith, help me, give me strength_…

Being reaped means basically certain death, but I can't afford to appear weak right now. In fact, I leave my section without saying a word, and silently mount the stage, trying to ignore the sharp look my mentor throws at me.

"And for the boys… Malachi Day!" continues the escort, without asking for volunteers.

I don't look at my district partner. Actually, I'm trying to find my family in the crowd, but fail at that. _Don't worry, you'll see them later… they will certainly come to say goodbye!_

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District 10: Rowley Star and Malachi Day! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

We enter the Justice Building immediately after the Reaping. The waiting room where I'll receive visits is covered by wooden tiles. There are a couple of beige couches and a fake mantelpiece with a round, silver mirror hung above it. I look at my refection in the mirror, and notice that I'm shaking like a leaf. I haven't realized it before. I bite my lip. If my fellow tributes watch the Reapings, they'll consider me a weakling.

Luckily, my family visits me almost immediately. Tom and Vixen hug me tight, whereas Sadie stands aside.

"Oh, Rowley! It's so unfair… after all you have been through!" says Vixen, while she's trying to hold back her tears.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? And you're strong, Rowley, we know that you can make it!" adds Tom, teary as well.

"We've adopted you only some months ago, but you're our daughter in all respects, and we love you so much! Remember that you've got a family waiting for you back home, will you?"

_Courage, Rowley! Stay strong! Don't even dare to cry!_

"Thank you. Your support is important to me. I-I… I'll do my best," I say with a sad smile.

"We know you will," replies Vixen, while sobbing.

We break our embrace. I look at Sadie, who seems rather uneasy.

"Would you like some privacy?" offers Vixen.

"Yes, thanks," I reply.

She hugs me one more time, then leaves the room. Tom puts his hands on my shoulders.

"Good luck, Rowley. Remember that being strong doesn't mean that you're not afraid of anything, but that you're afraid and you can overcome your fears. The Games are brutal, but see them as another obstacle to overcome, okay?" he says.

I nod in response.

After that, Tom hugs me again, and then leaves as well. There's only my little sister with me now.

"Sadie," I say.

She reluctantly approaches me. I kneel down to watch her right in the eye.

"I know that things have been difficult, but…"

"Don't think about the past now, just… try to win, okay?" she says, interrupting me.

"I'll do my best, I promise… and this time for real."

"I don't want to lose another sister," she goes on, as tears start flooding from her eyes.

I hug her. "Oh, Sadie, don't worry, you won't lose me, never."

When she's gone, I look again at the mirror. I must try to win, but I cannot ignore the fact that I might be dead in a few days. What does one feel when dying? What did Edith feel when she died?

…...

_Malachi Day (17)- District 10 male tribute_

Apparently, that nightmare was a premonition for real. I've been reaped. What if the rest came true as well? The type of arena, the blood on my hands… I'm not afraid of blood, otherwise I couldn't do all that butchery work at our farm, and yet… the idea of killing people- even if it's just for defending myself- scares me. But what choice do I have? Tributes are not free to choose, either they kill or they get killed. Yeah, maybe if I see the Hunger Games just as a mere fight for survival, killing won't be that traumatizing… but, as soon as I form this hypothesis, I start being sceptical about it. If killing is not that traumatizing when your own life is at stake, why do many victors look like zombies?

Luckily, the arrival of my siblings diverts my attention from these negative thoughts. Josephine immediately hugs me.

"Oh, my brother!" she says, teary.

"You don't need to worry about me, sis; I'll be fine. I'll win for our family… we'll have a new house, a better life without money problems…" I reply, my voice calmer than I expected.

She breaks her embrace. "Malachi, the Games are a serious thing. Don't think about money or whatever the Capitol will give you in case of victory, we want you to come back home alive, that's what matters! Your life is far more precious than all the money in the world!" she rebuts.

"She's right. We could be the richest people in Panem, but we wouldn't be happy without our brother," Jackal chimes in.

"I'll do my best to win. I can use knives, and that's something, right?" I say.

"Killing animals is different from killing people," Josephine points out.

"No, it's isn't, instead. People may be much worse than animals, especially in the arena of the Hunger Games," I retort.

"In any case, we'll always support you, whatever happens. Do all you need to do in order to survive, okay?" says Jackal.

I nod in response. "I promise."

"Malachi… Jackal told me about your nightmare. I know it's probably just a coincidence, but… well, we thought that in case you… you got reaped, you would like to have something from home… so take this as your district token," she says, giving me a ring.

"But this is…"

"Yes, it's the wedding ring of our father. We'll keep our mother's, so we'll be always united. It's a sort of friendship bracelet… yeah, I know it's stupid, but…" she stammers through tears.

I put my hands on her shoulders. "Thank you."

The ring is simple, and made of gold. On the inside, you can read the names of my parents engraved- MAURICE & ALIZA DAY- and the year of marriage. My siblings have never said that much about their deaths, but a part of me hopes that they will be guarding me in the arena. I will win also for them. This wedding ring is the best token Jackal and Josephine could give me, since it will remind me of my roots, and of the reason why I'll be fighting.

* * *

**So, Rowley Star (submitted by _Nightshade494_) and Malachi Day (submitted by _OrdinaryChildOfTheKing_) are the tributes of District 10 in the 76th Hunger Games. Do you think that Malachi's dream will come entirely true? Actually, I can anticipate that it is a sort of premonition (I wouldn't have added that part otherwise), but we'll see how the story develops. For the moment, if you want to make predictions, I'll be glad to hear from you. Remember that if you guess the arena before I present it, you'll get 50 POINTS to assign to tributes. I'll PM you, in case. For these Games, I've chosen a specific arena i.e. not a type of landscape in general, so a rough description cannot be considered a valid answer, in this case.**

**Please, leave a review, if you liked this chapter. Reviews are appreciated. For any doubts or just to chat a little, you can PM me.**

**Thank you a lot for reading :)**

**See you soon!**


	15. D12: the Cold Whore and the Silver Knife

**Hi, everyone! I'm finally back also with this story! As you can read from the summary, SUBMISSIONS for SPONSORS are now available also for this fanfic, and not only for _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _*. Let me remind you that SUBMITTERS can assign EXTRA POINTS to tributes once all the Reapings are done (actually, you won't need to wait long, since only District 7 and District 12 are left). All info is on my profile, but you can PM me for any doubts. If you're not interested in submitting though, you can still support tributes with your reviews. Readers and reviewers are always welcome :)**

**And now, enjoy the Reaping of District 12! **

* * *

_2 years ago_

_Rita Hollenthorpe (15)- Citizen of District 12_

It's not winter, yet the nights are freaking cold in District 12. But maybe I feel so cold because I'm not wearing warm clothes. I cannot wear warm clothes though, I couldn't do my job otherwise. Even if it's late, you can always meet someone- mainly peacekeepers patrolling the streets- but there might be also some prowlers out here, that's why I have always a knife with me. Better safe than sorry, right?

I enter a pub just to get out of the cold, and to see if I can find someone to solicit. A man is singing a folk song- something about a woman looking for her lover lost in the depths of a mine- while playing the guitar. You can see some drunkards seated at the wooden tables or at the counter. They're already too drunk, even for my liking. Eventually, a person catches my eye: it's a young peacekeeper, who's seated all alone at the counter, a glass of liquor in his hand, but he's not drinking it, he limits himself to gaze at it as if he was unsure about what to do. I smirk. Peacekeepers are the best customers, in the end. They often come from other districts, and, whether they have a family or not, they usually feel either homesick or tired after a hard day of work, and are usually willing to pay for someone to- let's say- console them.

I sit at the counter next to the young peacekeeper, but I pretend not to notice him. For his part, he just takes a quick look at me, but he turns again to his glass immediately afterwards. _Umm... okay, you're not the talkative type, but I'm not going to give up!_

"Hey, Warren! Why don't you pour me a drink?" I address the bartender- a man in his seventies whom I know very well, since I often hang out at his pub.

"Have you got any money, bitch?" he replies in a grumpy tone.

In response, I show him the content of my purse.

He bites his lip. "What a pity! Well, even if you had no money, you would find a way to pay me, right?" he comments, looking at my breast, which is highlighted by the corset I'm wearing under my brown dress.

"If I did have no money, I wouldn't come here," I rebut, forcing a smile.

It's true, I am a prostitute… the "cold whore of the Seam", a nickname I invented myself. "Cold" because I do my job without passion, I do it because there aren't many opportunities for a poor girl from the Seam. My father died in a mine accident years ago, my mother is bedridden, my little sister Isla is too weak to work. I am the breadwinner of my family. In the end, this job is like any other as long as it enables me to put food on the table. I just need to flirt with men, get them drunk (and occasionally myself), satisfy their desires, and eventually empty their purses. Sometimes, they're so drunk that they fall unconscious on the bed, I don't even need to sleep with them, and I definitely prefer it. Anyway, the fact that I'm a prostitute doesn't necessarily mean that any man can be my customer. Even the "cold whore of the Seam" has some scruples. I flirt with older men, but the age gap between us shall not be too great. Actually, my oldest customers are in their forties. Warren knows what I do for a living, but I will never share the bed with him. He could be my grandfather!

"What do you wanna drink?" Warren asks me, again in a grumpy tone.

"You choose," I answer with a shrug.

He pours me a glass of what looks like whiskey (but I suspect it's bad), and then he goes serve other customers. I drink my glass in only one shot- yes, it's bad. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that the young peacekeeper is now staring at me. His eyes are blue, I didn't notice it before.

"Seeing a young girl boozing like that is sad," he comments.

I turn to him. "I've never seen you round here. What's your name?"

"Paris. Yours?" he replies.

"Misty," I answer- I never tell my customers my real name. Better safe than sorry. If someone isn't drunk enough to forget everything and wants to reclaim what I stole from him, finding me will be much harder.

"A gloomy name," he comments.

"Life is gloomy when you're alone."

"That's why you booze?"

"Maybe. Why do you booze?"

He sighs in response, and looks away from me.

"I'm sorry, I was too blunt," I apologize.

"No, it's okay. Just…"- he sighs again- "… it's a sad story. I found out that my girlfriend cheated on me. I got itchy feet, so I applied for a transfer, and I ended up in District 12. I'm here, but… I don't know… honestly, I've never drunk alcohol in my life. I don't want to become a drunkard, just…"

"…you want to let yourself go a little bit," I complete his utterance.

He turns to me. "Yes."

"I can understand you, I feel the same sometimes."

In response, a slight smile forms on his lips.

_Looks like the empathy card is working…_

"I'm not that desperate not to understand that you might be lying, Misty. The bartender didn't call you bitch just to insult you, right? You're here 'cause you want something in exchange, don't you?"

He catches me momentarily off guard, but luckily I'm used to finding quick responses. "It's my job. If you don't want to take the next step, we can just stay here and talk. If you say no, I won't feel offended, I cannot oblige you."

In response, he watches me for head to toe, then smirks. "No, it's okay. I don't think I'll find the courage to drink this glass tonight."

"One transgression at a time," I say with a smile.

My usual customers are rarely sober, but this Paris is young and good-looking, so I can make a little sacrifice this time, right?

He takes me to the block of flats where he lives, which is not far away from Warren's pub. There aren't many tall buildings in the Seam, and even the tallest have no more than two or three floors. Those buildings are usually dwelled by low rank peacekeepers and their families, when they have one. Paris's flat is on the ground floor, so we don't need to take the stairs. It's quite modest, but seems cozy enough. The furniture is reduced to the minimum necessary… exactly what one would expect to see in a peacekeeper's dwelling.

"Tell me one thing… from which district do you come?" I ask him, while looking around.

"Two," he promptly answers.

"Oh, yeah, I heard about new recruits coming from Two, but I didn't expect to meet one of them in the forgotten hole of the Seam."

That said, I turn to Paris. The smile on my lips fades away as soon as our eyes meet. Something has changed in his gaze. Now, he's watching me in the way a predator watches its prey before killing it. I instinctively put my hand close to my belt, where my knife is hidden. That's precisely the kind of gaze that makes you want to run away, but I try to keep calm.

Paris gets closer to me.

_Please, don't tell me that he's a maniac!_

He's getting closer and closer.

_Please, don't tell me that he's a maniac!_

Now, we're face to face. I hold his gaze. For his part, he grabs my waist, and drags me closer to him. I wince in response.

"Come on, it's not your first time, I suppose," he whispers.

Now, I can feel both his breath and his heartbeat. He takes me to his room, where he makes me lay on the bed. He gets above me, grabs my wrists, and starts kissing my neck… but he's tightening too much!

"You're hurting me!" I protest, but he doesn't listen to me.

I start squirming. When he finally frees my wrists, I manage to escape his hold by pushing him away. I run towards the front door, but I find it locked.

"Where are you going?" Paris asks me in a menacing tone.

I have not the time to turn around, since he has already hugged me tight and dragged me closer to him. Now, he's morbidly kissing my neck and shoulders. I repeatedly elbow him in his stomach until I can free myself. I quickly grab my knife, and then turn to him.

"Unlock the door, or I'll kill you!" I warn him, pointing my knife at him with a trembling hand.

He bursts out laughing in response. "You won't do anything of the sort," he replies, amused.

He starts to get closer.

"Keep your distance!" I shout.

He doesn't stop instead. Now, we're almost face to face… again. But at this point something happens. Before I can even realize it, my hand has instinctively stabbed him in the stomach. In response, he covers his wound with both his hands, trying to stop the blood that is quickly soaking his clothes. He tries to scream, but I promptly silence him by putting my free hand on his mouth, then I push him against the wall. He's moaning and wheezing. His blue eyes express pure terror. But I don't feel pity for him. In one fluid motion, I use my knife to slice his throat, thus ending his life. I release my hold and step aside, while Paris's body is crumbling to the ground in a pool of blood. I hear him wheeze for a couple of seconds, but then everything is over. I don't dare to look at his corpse. I had never killed a person before… this is my first kill, and yet I feel nothing… nothing! I feel like my very soul was hollow… hollow and cold like a desert by night.

Eventually, my survival instinct makes me recover.

_You cannot stay here, you cannot stay here_… these words start to echo through my mind.

_Yeah, I cannot stay here, but nobody is coming to see what happened, so I've got time to see if there's something of value to steal…_

I search the flat, but the only thing I find is a gold medallion on the bedside table. I grab it. Then, I- don't know how- manage to frisk Paris's corpse till I find the key to unlock the door. As soon as I am again on the streets, I immediately start running. I stop only when I feel safe. I examine the medallion I stole. If I find a good dealer, my family won't have money problems for a while. There's a picture inside the medallion- a man and a woman. They must be Paris's parents.

"Well, your son was a maniac," I comment, under my breath.

Then, I take the photo, tear it up, and throw its pieces on the ground.

…...

_Some days before the Reaping_

_Kairo Redfield (40)- Peacekeeper_

I'm at the shooting range along with my son Canaan. It's a good thing that he learns not only to fight with fists and bladed weapons, but also to use guns. He will become a peacekeeper like me in the future; that's what I want for him, that's the best for him. Our family is well-off enough to ensure him a fast track, he won't end up in filthy places like the Seam of District 12 or the slums of District 6. I would have been moved to a better district myself by now, if I hadn't started a family here in Twelve. But I don't regret it, Enya was a wonderful woman and a caring wife. Besides, there's still room for gaining further rank.

"Father?"

I'm suddenly dragged back into reality. I look down, and see that Canaan has turned to me, his blue-grey eyes watching mine with a searching attitude. I slap him.

"I'm not your father now, I'm your trainer and your superior. You should learn to separate family and work," I scold him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologizes, lowering his gaze.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"May I get your permission to practice with knives instead of guns?"

It's true, Canaan is more capable with bladed weapons than with firearms. Not surprisingly, he's nicknamed "silver knife", given that his weapon of choice are knives, and that he's part of the upper echelon of society. But a good peacekeeper needs to possess a wide range of skills, they cannot focus exclusively on one kind of weapon. After all, peacekeepers are more likely to use a gun than a knife.

"Didn't I tell you before that answering a question with another question is irritating?" I say.

"Well, you did say it before, but you just did what you find irritating, and you even changed the subject before completing it- another thing that you find irritating, if I don't mistake," he points out, looking at me in an arrogant manner.

I feel anger seething in my stomach. How can he even dare to speak to me like that? Canaan is usually obedient and respectful of authority, but sometimes he's capable of acts of rebelliousness. This rebelliousness has to be eradicated from the start, and nothing is better than a prompt belt lash in the face to solve the problem… and that's precisely what I'll do. I take my belt, and hit my son's face with it. He falls to the ground. I give him some lashes on his back just to be sure he understands that this is a punishment. For his part, he doesn't try to defend himself, he doesn't even moan. I must be harsh to him. If I want to become Head Peacekeeper, our family has to be an example of perfection and discipline. Rebelliousness cannot be tolerated. The fact that I come from Capitol City would certainly favour my appointment, but my son has to do his part as well.

"Stand up! You're a soldier, not a worm!" I order him, as soon as I finish whipping him.

He obeys. "Yes, sir," he replies, keeping his head down.

"Rules are made by those in power. I'm your superior, which means that I have power over you, and that you need to obey me. It's all a matter of hierarchy. Hierarchies are everywhere in society; you cannot escape them, so you'd better learn to accept them. There are those who command, and those who obey. But you're not meant to be a servant, Canaan. If you want more power, you can have it, but you need first to deserve it. Power is no fun, it means responsability, self-abnegation, and discipline. Is that understood?"

He nods in response.

"Speak, Canaan! I want to hear your voice! Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. As for your request… no, you're not allowed to practice with knives today. I want you to use guns, and that's what you'll do, end of story. Now, resume your exercise."

"Yes, sir."

Canaan turns to the human-shaped silhouettes that are his targets. He aims, and eventually fires.

…...

_Present day_

_Rita Hollenthorpe (17)- Citizen of District 12_

I wake up with a terrible headache. Jeez, I drank too much alcohol last night, but it was worth it: my customer payed me well. In addition, I managed to steal a wristwatch. I'll be able to buy something decent to eat this week, and maybe also a new dress. I'm sick and tired of wearing only old rags. A nice dress would attract more customers, after all.

I try to get up, but I still feel a bit dizzy, so I immediately lose balance, and fall on the bed again. I snort. I let a couple of minutes pass before trying again… it works this time. Rather unsteadily, I head to my closet- well, calling it closet is kind of flattering, since it is made only of wooden planks roughly bolted together, but it's better than nothing. I pick the first dress I see and wear it. The one I wore yesterday stinks of alcohol, so I cannot wear it at the Reaping. Yeah, the Reaping… not an occasion to find customers, but certainly an occasion to steal. People are too afraid of being reaped to pay attention to their belongings. I don't see why one should wear precious things like jewels at the Reaping; not that I'm complaining, but it doesn't make sense to me. Maybe it's just a way of displaying one's wealth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that my sister is getting out of our mother's room with a tray in her hands. She goes to the kitchen, and I follow her. She lays the tray on the kitchen's table.

"Isla, how's mum?" I ask her.

She turns to me. "Good morning to you too, sis," she replies.

I roll my eyes.

"She's okay. I prepared a soup for her, but she ate only half. I'll heat the rest for this evening," she continues.

"We could buy extra food with the money I earned yesterday," I offer.

She looks down in response. "I… you know I don't like the way you earn money… the way you live… we could get the food we need by…"

I interrupt her: "No, Isla. No tesserae!"

She looks at me again. "But they could help us!"

"Yeah, they could help us to get killed!" I retort.

"We wouldn't necessarily end up in the Games!"

I put my hands on her shoulders. "But our chances would be higher! Isla, please, don't think of tesserae. I live like this 'cause I want it. What I don't want is seeing you in the Games. I won't let anyone hurt you! If you get reaped, I'll volunteer for you, don't worry."

"And what if _you _got reaped?" she enquires.

"You'd no nothing," I promptly answer.

"What?"

"Promise me that you will never volunteer for me."

"But…"

"Isla, promise."

She sighs in response. "Okay, I promise."

We have breakfast together- just some crusts of bread soaked in milk. After that, we both head to the main square by foot. Since our mother is too sick to move from her bed, she is allowed to stay at home. Isla and I are going to come back home immediately after the Reaping, so she won't be alone for too long. She has a viral disease due to drinking contaminated water for many years. Once, I spared enough money to take her to a doctor in town, but he told us that she cannot fully heal. All she can do is avoiding to drink dirty water by first purifying it with iodine. But iodine is not that easy to find in District 12.

Once in the main square, I part from my sister, and then we both join our respective sections. Neither of us said a word while we were coming here. I truly hope Isla won't get reaped. She's only fourteen, she's too young to die… well, anyone is too young to die, but I cannot care about everybody, I care only about my family. If Isla gets reaped for real, I'm ready to volunteer for her, but I'm not ready to die. These are the 76th Hunger Games; they serve to remind the districts that they were defeated twice, so the tributes coming from the most rebellious districts- Twelve and Thirteen- are very likely to lose their lives in an exemplary way. There's no hope for my district, not this year.

Both the mayor and the escort are new. The mayor is a Capitolite. He mounts the stage, reads the Treaty of Treason, and eventually leaves the word to the escort without making a comment. The escort is no longer Effie Trinket but another woman.

"Good morning, District 12! I'm your new escort! You've been quite nasty recently, that's why I'm here. Still, no time to dilly-dally! Let's move to the actual Reaping! Ladies first!" she says.

I already hate her.

She approaches the girls' ball, and then picks up one slip at random, touching it only with her fingertips, as if she was afraid of getting dirty. "Rita Hollenthorpe!"

What? Me? It cannot be true, it cannot… who will take care of my family while I'm away? Who will take care of my family after my death? My head starts spinning like crazy, following the movement of these thoughts in my mind. Who will take care of my family while I'm away? Who will take care of my family after my death?

"Rita Hollenthorpe! Come on, don't be shy!" insists the escort.

A this point, a peacekeeper drags me out of my section. I head to the stage. I walk slowly. I feel like the earth under my feet is about to crack in two to swallow me in its depths. I'm afraid, I'd like to disappear, but I am mostly angry. I've never taken out tesserae to protect me and my family. I don't deserve this!

When I'm eventually onstage, the escort doesn't say a word. She doesn't even ask for volunteers (luckily, since I don't want Isla to take my place in the Games), she immediately moves to boys. "Canaan Redfield!"

A boy emerges from the fifteen-year-old section. He's wearing fine clothes; he doesn't live in the Seam, that's for sure. In addition, I can tell by his rigid posture and by the way he keeps his chin high that he belongs to a family of peacekeepers. I know peacekeepers too well not to recognize them even in civilian clothes. My district partner has also clenched fists. He must be as angry as I. I bite my lip. An angry peacekeeper is definitely a threat. Peacekeepers are trained to fight, they know how to use different weapons. For my part, I can handle only a knife, and use it to kill… yeah, I had to kill more than one customer in the past, when things got messy, and this is an advantage, yet… I lack a proper training, what my district partner certainly has, given that his face is covered in red welts, as if all his blood was concentrated there. Discipline and hard training, that's the life of a peacekeeper. It's not the first time I see whip marks on somebody's skin, so I'm not bewildered. I must pay attention to him, though.

"The tributes of District 12, Rita Hollenthorpe and Canaan Redfield! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour! Shake hands, you two!" says the escort.

I stretch my hand out, but Canaan doesn't take it at first. He watches me from head to toe, and only afterwards he reluctantly shake hands with me. _My district partner is a peacekeeper, he's spoiled and picky… great!_

We enter the Justice Building, where we're assigned a private waiting room for visitors. Isla comes to visit me almost immediately. She's teary. I hug her.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"What for?" she asks, while sobbing.

"Because you didn't volunteer," I answer.

"I promised you not to do it, don't you remember?"

I break our embrace. Then, I duck to watch her right in the eye. "We haven't got much time, so listen to me, please. Will you?"

She nods in response.

"Yesterday, I stole a wristwatch. If you sell it, you should have enough money to live for a while. You can ask our neighbour Xavier, he's a good dealer… a little stingy sometimes, but I sold him many items in the past, so he should have a special regard for you. You'll need to manage well the money you get… I don't know… I don't know when you'll need other money…"

"I could find a part-time job," she offers.

"Okay, but our mother?"

"I'll find someone to look after her."

"Try to do your best, Isla, I know you can… I… I'll come back, I promise."

"Be careful."

I hug my sister again. She's crying like a baby. I don't want her to see that I'm about to cry as well. I must stay strong for our family.

Suddenly, a peacekeeper enters the room, thus interrupting us. "Time's up!" he shouts.

"No! Rita!" cries Isla, as the peacekeeper is shoving her out.

"I have to go now, but I'll come back soon, I promise! I love you!" I reply, desperate.

The peacekeeper slams the door, leaving me alone. I won't see my sister again… I won't see her again, and the last thing I told her was a lie. I won't come back, I'm sure I won't. All I can do is trying to survive as long as possible… but it's a cruel choice, since it will nurture the hope of those I love. But what can I do otherwise? I feel so weak and powerless now that I cannot stand any longer. I sit on one of the couches that are in this room. I sit down, and then burst into tears.

…...

_Canaan Redfield (15)- District 12 male tribute_

I've been reaped! I've been reaped! How is that possible? The Hunger Games are not for me, they're only for bloodthirsty Careers and starving children with tons of entries! I've never taken out tesserae, so why am I here? There should be someone else in my place, anyone would be okay but me! The escort should have picked one of those wrecks coming from the Seam like my district partner! She doesn't belong to the merchant class, that's for sure, and I had even to touch her! I'm so outraged that I push over all the couches of this damn room, and I keep on kicking them until I'm out of breath.

I hear the door open behind my back. I turn around. It's my father. As soon as I see him, all my muscles stiffen. His arrival has turned the fire of my rage into ice out of a sudden. My father looks first at me, and then at the couches. I bite my lip. He will certainly scold me, I can already prepare to receive the first whiplash. In fact, I look down, waiting for the pain, but nothing happens… or, rather, nothing _expected_ happens. He gets closer to me. My heart is now beating like crazy.

_I'm sorry, father, I didn't want to freak out like that... forgive me, please…_

He puts both his hands on my shoulders. What does it mean? Am I in trouble or not? "Canaan, my son… I… I have no words to describe how I feel at the moment,"-he sighs- "All I can do is asking you to do your best. I'll be rooting for you."

Is it tenderness what I hear in his voice? I look at him. His eyes are watery. Tears? My father? No way! I've never seen him cry!

"Thank you," I reply. What else can I say? If I speak too much, he always scolds me.

At some point, he composes himself. He puts his hands behind his back.

_Okay, no more tenderness, I suppose…_

"Ahem… you'll represent District 12 in the Games, but you should tell them that your father comes from the Capitol, it will certainly make you score points. As for allies, the Career pack is the natural alliance considering your talent, but you're young, they won't accept you easily. You'll need to show them what you can do. Every edition has its own history, and this one is going to be particularly tough for tributes. The former leader of the rebellion came from Twelve like you, so it's extremely important that you distance yourself from the rebellion. Remember, Canaan, you're not a rebel, you hate rebels. Is that understood?" he continues.

"Yes, sir. I come from Twelve, but my heart is that of a loyal Career. You'll be proud of me," I reply.

A slight smile forms on his lips- another unexpected event. "I'm already proud of you, Canaan."

I don't know what to say in response, I just keep staring at him. He's never so tender to me! He loves me, then! He cares about me! I'm more than a piece of flesh to whip to him! I'm his son, and he's proud of me! I've never felt so happy before! I'd like so badly to hug him, but it would mean pushing it too far, so I give up.

At this stage, a peacekeeper enters the room.

"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you that you need to leave," she says.

"Okay. Good luck, my son," he replies.

"Thank you. I'll do my best," I say.

He nods. "I know you will."

That said, my father leaves the room. Now, I'm alone… alone and with a strange mixture of happiness, sadness, and confusion filling my soul.

* * *

**So, another Reaping is done. I know that it has been a while since my last update, but I've got still some exams to do, so I'm focusing on them at the moment. Anyway, the tributes of District 12 are Rita Hollenthorpe and Canaan Redfield, both submitted by _Paradigm of Writing_. Do you think Rita's prediction will come true? Will the tributes of Twelve die? Or do they stand a chance?**

**Thank you a lot for reading. Please, leave a review, if you liked this chapter :)**

* * *

***Sponsor chapters consist mainly of dialogues between sponsors and mentors. I've already uploaded two chapters about sponsors in _Love Is the Deadliest Weapon _(chapters 19 and 24), if you want to have a look**


	16. D7: the Prankster and the Hummingbird

**Last but not least, District 7! Thanks to _xQueen-Of-Applesx _for submitting!**

* * *

_Present day_

_Woodrow "Woody" Auxley (19)- Citizen of District 7_

They say I'm too old for these things. _Why do you still play pranks on people, Woodrow? A boy of your age should be more serious_… they keep on repeating these things, but I don't want to listen to them. Hell! I'm serious most of the time! I work all week as a lumberjack, so I can have a little fun sometimes! To be sincere, I'm not the brains; my little brother Linden has always good ideas for pranks, Jeremy and I limit ourselves to follow him. Judging from first impression, no one would think that he's a real prankster. In fact, Linden is normally a quiet boy and also book smart. I know that sometimes he gets bullied at school, but he doesn't want me or Jeremy to help him. Honestly, he doesn't seem to care about bullies, but maybe it's just a facade… maybe playing pranks is just a way of blowing off some steam.

Anyway, today is Reaping day… again. I didn't fight during the war, and neither was I a fervent rebel, yet… I really hoped the Capitol would be defeated. The Hunger Games are inhuman, and they'll be even more so this year, since the Capitol certainly bears a grudge against the districts due to the second rebellion. I cannot imagine what tributes will face in the arena, and I wouldn't even care, if Linden wasn't eligible. He's the only member of our family to be still of Reaping age. If he was reaped, what would we do? What would I do? Neither me nor Jeremy would be allowed to volunteer for him. He would be alone and helpless… a lamb ready for slaughter, to be either killed or spared according to the Gamemakers' moods. I wouldn't stand that!

"Woody?"

I look down. Linden's green eyes are trained on me.

"Yes?" I reply.

"Did you listen to me?" he asks.

"Not really… I'm sorry, I was a bit wistful," I admit.

"Linden has a great idea for a prank," says Jeremy, grinning.

"Oh, what's he idea?" I enquire.

"Well… today, there's the Reaping, so everyone's attention will be focused on the stage, right? But what if it was focused on peacekeepers?" says Linden.

"Wait… what's your plan, Linden? You know, we shouldn't get in trouble with peacekeepers. If we got caught…"

"Oh, come on! You want to bother them too! You know how they mistreat everyone!" Jeremy interrupts me.

"Jeremy, you're the eldest, you should…"

"Yeah, I'm the eldest, but this doesn't mean that I'm going to scrap Linden's idea. Let him explain, at least…"

I sigh. "Okay."

"Thank you, Jeremy. As I was saying, today there's the Reaping, and we all know that peacekeeper officers always wear their high uniforms on these occasions. We could splatter paint on their uniforms while they're heading to the main square, ridiculing them on live TV," explains Linden, enthusiastic.

"How?" I ask.

"That's where I come in," replies Jeremy. "A friend of mine works in a paintball range- you know, sometimes peacekeepers go there to train- and he has secretly lent me a paint gun for this prank. Linden and I found out to which laundry they take their uniforms. What do you think?"

"Wait… how long have you been planning all this?"

"For a while," admits Linden with a guilty smile.

"I didn't know anything about it before," I point out with an accusatory tone.

In response, Jeremy puts his arm around my shoulders. "Well… you know… you're always so hard to convince, brother… you would have stopped us, if you had known it before."

"And for good reason! It's a crazy plan!" I retort.

"Blah, blah, blah… too late to stop us," says Jeremy.

"What if we got caught?"

"We won't."

"Yeah, we know where to hide. The paint gun is already in position, and Jeremy has good aim," adds Linden.

"That's the most stupid…"

"Please, Woody, come with us, it's not the same without you!" Linden begs me.

I sigh. "Okay, let's do it."

…...

_5 years ago_

_Azalea "Lea" Redwood (12)- Citizen of District 7_

A light rain is falling over District 7... a rainy day in a cloudless summer. Sitting on the front porch of my house, I'm listening to it. I find it relaxing. In the meantime, I'm humming a tune… I don't remember neither its title nor its lyrics… to be sincere, I'm better at remembering tunes. As for words… well, I'm dyslexic, so they're not my favourite means of communication. Actually, there are many other ways of communicating… a gaze, a gesture… anything could substitute words… to a certain extent, of course.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the arrival of three people- a man and two women. I recognize the man, he's our neighbour Dave… but the women… they must be the people daddy asked Dave to call in order to help mum, whereas he stayed home to look after her… a nurse and a midwife, that's how he called them. Mum is about to give birth. I'm so excited! A little sibling, I'll have a little sibling… I'll be no longer alone! Yeah, I've got also my parents, but they're always at work… a little sibling will keep company with me. I'm so happy!

Daddy opens the door, and lets in the two women. Dave stays on the porch along with me, instead. I try to enter as well, but daddy asks me to stay here.

"But…" I protest.

"This is not a spectacle proper for children, Lea," he replies, and closes the door.

I'll peep through the window then. I see all the three go upstairs. Daddy looks nervous… I can tell it by the way he's gesticulating; he always gesticulates like that, when he's nervous. On the other hand, the two women are acting calm, they're even trying to appease him. It's clear that they know their stuff. Eventually, they all disappear into my parents' room. Oh. I'm so curious! Why have I to stay here? I'll have a little sibling soon, so I should be beside mum, shouldn't I?

At some point, mum begins to scream. I can hear her well even from outside. It's frightening. They say giving birth is painful, and I know it, but hearing her screams is frightening, nonetheless. I cover my ears, while pacing back and forth. Dave is telling me something- he's probably trying to calm me down- but I'm not listening to him. I start humming a tune. Music is always relaxing, it will help me to calm down, I hope. But I can still hear her screams. Why has she to suffer like that? Giving birth should be a joyful event… I mean, you welcome a new life, why is it so painful then? Why?

Suddenly, I hear no more screams. I stop. Is it already all over? I need to know if mum is okay! I rush inside my house.

"Azalea!" says Dave, but I'm already running up the stairs.

"Congratulations, it's a baby girl!" I hear a female voice say.

A baby girl! A sister… I have a little sister now! Oh, I'm so happy! That's what happiness means! I open the door. Mum, daddy, the two women… they're all staring at me now, a mixture of happiness and astonishment on their faces. Mum is holding my sister in swaddling cloths. The baby is moaning.

"Oh, my little hummingbird… come… greet your little sister Paisley," says my mother with the most wonderful smile I've ever seen on her lips.

I get closer to her with trepidation. I look at my little sister. She's a beautiful baby. At some point, she opens her eyes. They're wide and blue.

"Hello, Paisley," I whisper, as tears start flooding from my eyes.

…...

_Present day_

_Linden Auxley (13)- Citizen of District 7_

He saw my face! He saw my face! Let's say that things didn't go as expected. Yeah, Jeremy managed to fire a couple of shots, but then… well, there were also some recruits accompanying the officers, and they immediately ran towards the direction of the shots, in other words towards us. We had to flee as fast as we could, but the problem is that I wasn't fast enough to lose all of them. I had hidden in an alley to catch my breath, but one of them found me. Jeremy and Woody were nowhere to be seen. The peacekeeper pushed me to the wall, and then lowered my hood- my brothers and I had worn hoodies to hide our faces, but now the peacekeeper was able to look at my eyes. Then, something unexpected... he took off his helmet, so I could see that he was a young man, probably in his thirties.

"Listen to me, brat," he said. "Acts of rebellion are not tolerated in District 7."

Rebellion?

"It was just a prank… please, let me go!" I begged him, while trying to hold his gaze… but it was hard, his gaze was so cold that my flesh crawled, and my whole body began to shake like a leaf.

"Just this once."

What?

He let me go... he let me go! Why?

Now, I'm running home. At some point, I see my brothers coming towards me.

"Linden! You okay?" Woody asks me.

"I'm fine," I reply.

"Are you sure? When we didn't see you…"

"I'm fine… they… well, I lost them," I insist, interrupting him.

"You made us worry," Jeremy chimes in, but he sounds more amused than worried.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

"We should really go home now, we cannot arrive late at the Reaping," says Woody, changing the subject.

We go home. As soon as we set foot inside the house, we find our parents waiting for us. They look angry.

"Where have you been?" asks our father, clearly furious.

"We… made a run," answers Jeremy- well, it's technically true.

"And you forgot about the Reaping."

"Oh, no, we came back on time, right?"

"But too late to wear some decent clothes… well, this problem is mostly Linden's…" our mother chimes in. "I mean… Jeremy, Woodrow..."- oh, when she calls my brother "Woodrow" instead of using his nickname, it means that she's angry- "… you're his elder brothers, you should look after him!" she adds, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Now, there's no time for scolding, we have to go, but we'll talk later," our father warns us.

We leave all together. Actually, we're among the last to arrive at the main square. I part from my family to present myself to the peacekeepers… and I come face to face with the same peacekeeper who found me in the alley! He recognizes me, obviously. He doesn't say a word at first, he just draws a drop of blood from my finger to verify my identity, and then writes something in a register.

"Linden Auxley… I will remember this name," he says at some point.

What does it mean? What does it mean? But I don't ask him anything, I just join my section without looking back. I'm nervous though, and not due to the Reaping. _I will remember this name…_ does it mean that I'll be punished? Does it mean that my family will get in trouble because of a stupid prank? Or did he just want to scare me to death?_ Acts of rebellion are not tolerated in District 7…_ to me it was just a stupid prank, but he took it seriously. On second thoughts, targeting peacekeepers was not a great idea. What can I do to make up for that prank?

"Azalea Redwood!"

The high-pitched voice of the escort distracts me from my thoughts. I look at the stage. The reaped girl is mounting it right now.

"A lovely tribute with a lovely name! You live in District 7, and you're named after a flower. I find it appropriate. What do you think?" says the escort, but the girl doesn't reply.

"Ahem… does anyone want to volunteer?" continues the escort.

No one answers.

"Very well, then. We have the female tribute, so let's call her district partner onstage… the lucky one is… Vert Arbre!"

A skinny boy leaves the twelve-year-old section. He's shaking like a leaf. He's clearly scared, he doesn't even try to hide his fear. The boy has no muscles, he has barely the courage to raise his eyes from the ground. He will certainly die in the arena, unless… well, I'll kill two birds with one stone, if…

"I volunteer!" I shout, and then leave my section.

The reaped boy looks at me, a mixture of astonishment and gratitude in his eyes.

"Oh, a volunteer from an outer district, that's an event!" comments the escort, who's astonished as well… maybe also a bit disappointed, probably because she doesn't think I'm a better tribute than the reaped boy… I'm so young and weak, after all.

I mount the stage.

"So, my little lionheart… what's your name?" she asks me.

"Linden Auxley," I answer.

"The tributes of District 7, Azalea Redwood and Linden Auxley! As always, happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

We enter the Justice Building. They take me to a room to wait for visitors. Once alone, I start pacing back and forth. A part of me is happy, because I saved the life of that boy, but… what about my life? What about my family? Yeah, if I won, the peacekeeper couldn't do anything to us… but I have to win first, and I won't take part in a normal competition… these are the Hunger Games! I will need to fight… to kill… oh, what have I done? I'll stand no chances in the arena! I will… I will probably die in the bloodbath! No, this is just a nightmare… now, I will wake up in my bed… I will… but this is not a nightmare… I'm a tribute for real… I…

I hear the door open. My family enters the room.

"Why have you volunteered, Linden?" asks my father.

I don't know what to answer. I start crying. "I-I… d-don't know… when I-I s-saw that boy, I-I…" I stammer, while shaking my head.

"You have a good heart, Linden," says my mother, and she starts crying as well.

My parents hug me.

"I-I'm scared, I don't want to go!" I say.

"If we could come with you, we would. But you'll never be alone, okay? We'll think of you every day… until you come back, okay?" replies my father.

"We love you," adds my mother.

"I love you too."

Then, it's the turn of my brothers.

"Well, volunteering... was the craziest idea you had, you… you surprised us," says Woody with a sad smile.

"Please, don't get in trouble while I'm away," I beg them.

"Oh, no, we are going to play pranks in your honour!" replies Jeremy.

"No, don't do it, please!" I insist.

"Why not?"

I look down in response. When I raise my eyes again, I need all my self-control to flaunt a smile. "Your ideas for pranks are boring."

"Oh, did you hear him, Woody? Our brother thinks we cannot play pranks without him…"

"He underestimates us."

I would like to joke with them forever, but a peacekeeper- a woman this time- enters the room to remind me that I have a train to take. My family has to leave me, and I have to leave them… leave them due to a stupid prank. But the idea was mine, so it's me who has to pay.

…...

_Azalea "Lea" Redwood (1__7__)__ \- District 7 female tribute_

I'm not able to hold back my tears. The Hunger Games… I'm a tribute in the Hunger Games! I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but I'm too scared to do it. I try to hum a tune then, but what I produce sounds more like a wheeze than proper music. I feel smothered… I feel like I was going to die right now.

Luckily, my family arrives. My parents hug me immediately. They're both teary.

"Oh, Lea! Its so unfair! You cannot go!" says mum.

"I... have to," I reply.

"Promise us that you'll be careful! We want you to come back!"

"I… wwwill do… my bets… my best to sur… sssurvive."

"You're a brave girl, Lea. Remember… you can do anything, if you really want it," says daddy.

Even win the Hunger Games? I doubt it… I don't think that a strong will is enough. But I need to think positive. I can make it. I don't need to be a tribute who shows off their skills, I could just try to go unnoticed… well, it gonna be tough, my dyslexia won't enable me to go unnoticed. They will probably laugh at my problem. I watched other editions of the Games, and every time there's a tribute who has a disability, he or she is immediately targeted as a weakling. But someone could decide to sponsor me out of pity. It might work as a strategy.

My parents break our embrace. Now, I should say something also to Paisley. She's too little to understand what's happening, but I cannot leave my district without telling her goodbye.

"Hey, Paisley," I say, approaching her.

"Daddy said you'll go to another place. Where?" she replies.

"It's… a cccity… a big city… fra… far far away."

"But you'll come back soon, right?"

"Sure."

"Can I come with you?"

I shake my head in response.

"Why not?" she insists.

"Because you're too little to travel, Paisley. Now, say goodbye to your sister, she needs to get ready to leave," daddy chimes in, trying to hold back his tears.

"Okay… Lea?"

"Yes?"

"Good trip."

I smile. "Thanks, Paisley."

After that, they leave the room. I feel so alone now, but I cannot give up. I will see them again… I have to.

* * *

**So, also the last two tributes have been introduced. What do you think of them?**

**If you want, you can write a review with the chart below:**

**\- your tributes (if any)**

**\- rooting for (plus 10 points)**

**\- simply like (plus 5 points)**

**\- neutral**

**\- dislike (minus 5 points)**

**\- want them dead (minus 10 points)**

**The Reaping part of this SYOT is finally over, and this means that ****now ****SUBMITTERS ****can**** assign 20 extra points to tributes per chapter, starting from that about the train rides. I will send you a message to remind you of these extra points, anyway. PM me, if you need more info.**

**Thank you for reading :)**


	17. A Blast from the Past

_Present day_

_Falcon Smith (51)- President of Panem_

The Reapings must be all over by now. I grab my tablet, and sit on one of the couches of my new bureau. I didn't want to be associated with Snow's pompous regime, that's why I've got a new bureau that is comfortable but spartan. Even the president's mansion at the City Circle is used only for social events. As a matter of fact, I live in my old house. I sigh. If only my sons followed suit instead of living in ultra-luxurious villas *****… but this is not the time to think of my family, so I'd better focus on something else. The Reapings may be a good distraction.

I switch on my tablet, and tune into HG Channel- the channel dedicated to the Hunger Games.

"_Hello, Panem! Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games! We are all eager to see the tributes of this year, so let's move on to the Reapings!"_ says Cinnamon Nicewarble- the new Master of Ceremonies** ****.

First of all, they show the main square of District 1. It looks like a carnival… colourful garments, jewels, flags, banners… one can immediately understand that District 1 is a wealthy place, second only to Capitol City. The mayor makes an introductory speech, and then reads the Treaty of Treason. The escort is about to start with the females, but a girl volunteers before she can pick up a slip of paper from the Reaping ball. Nothing surprising in a Career district. Also the female tribute looks like a typical girl of District 1- blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic build. The male tribute is reaped instead, and no one volunteers for him… that's unusual. His name is Iron Rattler… hmm, Rattler… I know the names of the most famous rebels, and I'm pretty sure Rattler was the surname of one of their commanders. This boy must be his son… a relative, in any case… definitely a tribute who has to die at all costs… but I trust Ismene, I don't need to tell her what to do.

Then, it's the turn of District 2. More sober compared to District 1. A district nestled among the mountains, as strong as the hearts of its citizens. Its military force was crucial for winning the war. I feel a knot in my stomach. Yeah, District 2 remained loyal to the Capitol, but my wife lost her life there, and I was not with her… I was not with her! I was in the Capitol, hidden like a coward, while she was on the front lines, fighting for our country. I'll never be able to forgive myself for that. Anyway, the tributes of District 2 look promising: the boy, Gavriel Asterin, is the son of two victors… exactly the kind of tribute who should win to emphasize Capitol's victory over the rebels; the girl, Lokir Mistlyre, has just knocked out another girl, who volunteered along with her… her name doesn't ring a bell, though, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.

District 3. A rather grey district, a district of factories. Its tributes rarely win the Games, and those of this year don't look threatening neither. The boy could be mistaken for a Capitolite with his ashy blonde hair dyed blue at the edges, but he almost trips while mounting the stage. At least, he's not a hopeless twelve-year-old.

District 4. A village of fishermen facing the crystal blue sea. Another place that evokes memories that I'd like to forget. The female tribute volunteers for a younger girl. They have the same surname, they must be siblings. Then, as for the boys...

"_Izumi Laine!" _says the escort.

Laine? No, it cannot be, he cannot be her son! Maybe Ren Laine had a child with another woman, not with her… but the boy and she are peas in a pod! How old is he? Twelve… the only time that I was in District 4 was… no, more than twelve years ago, right? He cannot be…

I switch off my tablet. I use the telephone exchange to call my secretary.

"Rose, please call the Head Gamemaker, and tell her that I want to see her right now," I say, trying to sound calm.

"_Yes, sir. Do I need to add anything else to your message?"_

"Tell her that I just want to talk about the tributes of this year."

"_Yes, sir."_

One thing is certain: everything needs to look normal from outside. The truth that I might learn scares me, but nothing will get out of this bureau.

…...

_Ismene Flair (45)- Head Gamemaker_

I look at my reflection in the mirror. My contact lenses are still in place. I'm short-sighted, but unfortunately my myopia cannot be treated. That doesn't prevent me from using contact lenses, though, even coloured. Actually, my eyes are brown, and not light green… but when you marry a famous stylist, you need to maintain a certain image. My husband's motto is "the paler, the better", so I had to adapt to it: I wear light green contact lenses, and I frequently use lemon juice to brighten my brick-coloured skin… yeah, that's how my husband describes my skin tone, he compares it to a brick. I usually wear light-coloured clothes, but I've decided not to change my hair, since I'm fond of their raven hue.

I need to maintain a certain image also as the Head Gamemaker. I'm well aware that many people believe I will fail, since I've got no experience... and these would probably be the first to congratulate me in case of success. That's how it works, after all: if you fail, you're a loser, and everyone points fingers at you; if you succeed, you're a hero, and everyone acclaims you as if you were a god. People are fickle and two-faced, but I'm not afraid of them, I know what I have to do. At least, they cannot say that I've got no creativity, since the idea for the arena was mine. To be sincere, coming up with it was not that difficult.

"_The __Games of this year__ must be me memorable; even more than a Quarter Quell! Let's add a twist to make them more interesting!" says a Gamemaker._

"_We haven't chosen the landscape yet!" points out another._

"_The landscape is not that important! If we really want to punish the districts, we should __add a twist: only rebels can be reaped."_

"_Oh, come on! Almost everyone in the districts was a rebel!"_

_I__t's really lo__u__d now. Everyone wants to say something without waiting for their turn, so understanding what is being said is almost impossible. I wonder how these Gamemakers can make the Hunger Games work, if they are not able to reach an agreement. _

_At this stage, I stand up. Everyone falls silent, and turns to me. "__The 76__th__ Hunger Games are meant to punish the districts for the second rebellion, __but I don't think we should add a twist," I say. "From an organizational point of view, this is a normal edition. __The only difference is that__ the arena will convey __a special __message __this year__. Why don't we use a metaphor? The districts have to be punished for their crimes... they sinned, and we're like gods now, we have the power to punish them… like the ancient gods used to do to mankind. In my opinion, the arena should implement this metaphor, so why don't we __set it in Ancient Greece, the land of myth per excellence?"_

_At first, no one says a word in response. They all seem to be considering my proposal. Hard to say what they're thinking: will they accept or reject it?_

_At some point, Oberon Baynes breaks the silence: "That's an excellent idea, Mrs. Flair. Of course, we will need to create an arena that relates to the ancient myths…"_

"_I'm passionate about mythology. I have already some ideas," I promptly reply._

My recollection fades away as soon as I hear the phone ring. I go answer it, but my husband precedes me.

"Yes?… oh, I see… yeah, I'll tell her."

He puts the phone down. "The president wants to see you."

"Why?" I ask him.

"Oh, dear, don't ask too many questions. Think only about making a good impression. You know, an eventual failure…"

"I know it. An eventual failure could affect also your career," I interrupt him, rolling my eyes.

"Precisely."

…...

_Falcon Smith (51)- President of Panem_

When Ismene enters my bureau, I cannot help but think that she could be mistaken for a top model. Tall, thin… her long legs are brought out by the knee-long, short-sleeved, white dress that she's wearing. Her dress has a pattern that reminds me of soap bubbles. She's wearing also high heels, and her raven hair has an unmistakable bowl haircut.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she says.

I have gathered my thoughts before her arrival, but, when I open my mouth to speak, I cannot help stammering: "Oh, Ismene… p-please, take your seat… I-I'd like to… to talk to you."

_I could kill myself! I don't sound calm at all!_

"Falcon… is everything okay? You look a bit nervous," she points out, indeed, and sits down right in front of me.

I take a deep breath. "I'd like to talk about one of the tributes," I reply.

"Which one?" she asks, while pulling her tablet out of her bag. "If it's the boy from One, I know that…"

I interrupt her: "What do you know about the boy from Four?"

"Four?" she echoes me, clearly puzzled.

"Yes."

She switches on her tablet, and looks for the required information. "Well, I cannot say that much. He's an orphan, his parents died both during the war, and…"

"Who were his parents?"

"Ren and Nanako Laine. Apparently, his family was important before the war."

"Maiden name?"

"Yu. But why…?"

"Anything else?"

"Falcon, why are you so interested in that boy?" she answers with another question.

"It doesn't matter," I reply.

"Oh, no, it does matter instead! He's a tribute now, his life is in _my _hands! If you know something that I don't, you have to tell me," she rebuts.

"I… I was in District 4… just once, many years ago… and I met them… I mean, his parents," I explain, without looking at her.

"And…"

"And what?"

"Oh, come on, Falcon! Do you usually care that much about people you met just once? I don't think so," she replies.

"Well, they were kind and…"

"Falcon…"

I gaze at her. She looks more determined than ever.

"You know that you can tell me anything. I'm discreet, nothing will get out of this bureau, but I need to know the truth. What aren't you telling me?" she says in a calm voice, putting her hand on mine.

"The truth might hurt you," I reply.

"I don't care," she affirms.

"Okay, as you wish. I was in District 4 twelve years ago, and once I… I slept with this Nanako, so… Izumi Laine might be my son."

…...

_Ismene Flair (45)- Head Gamemaker_

"… Izumi Laine might be my son."

Falcon's confession is like a bolt from the blue. I feel betrayed as if he had just said that he cheated on me, and not on my sister. I need all my self-control not to shout at Falcon, and to hold back my tears of rage.

"Do you want him to win, then?" I ask him with a quivering voice.

"Of course not, no favouritism," he promptly answers.

"Yeah, if he died, your dirty secret would die with him, right?"

"Ismene…"

"I know that Gorgo was not a tender woman, but she didn't deserve…"

"It was a mistake, and I know it, Ismene. Believe me, it was just a flirt…"

"Should I feel better, then?"

"You blame me, and you're right. Just… I cannot change the past, I wish I could."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask him, watching him right in the eye.

"Don't say a word to anyone," he answers.

"Why did you tell me that?"

"I just wanted to make sure that my doubts were justified. I'm not 100% sure that the boy is my son, but it doesn't matter. If they found it out, it would be a scandal, in any case. Please, Ismene, I'm begging you, help me to keep it a secret! I know that I'm demanding too much from you, but… you're my only hope."

"You want me to be your accomplice, then. What if the boy knew the truth?" I enquire.

"If he knows the truth, he'll try to talk to me, I suppose. In that case, we'll convince him to keep silent," he answers.

"A threat?"

"A deal," he corrects me.

When I leave Falcon's bureau, I feel like I have more questions than answers. What should I do? Should I help Falcon despite all? He cheated on my sister, whereas I thought he was a loyal man, a man of integrity. Gorgo loved him in her way. Yes, she was often busy with work, but this is not an excuse! If I think of the sacrifice I made not to ruin their marriage… Gorgo was the elder sister, the self-confident girl; I was a shy bookworm, a girl who didn't want to valorize her figure, because she was afraid of men's attention. A resourceful boy like Falcon would never notice a girl like me. What should I do? Should I really help him?

* * *

**So, ****another chapter is finished. I hope you liked this little interlude between the Reapings and the train rides. I think that adding it was kind of obligatory, just to see Falcon's reaction to the reaping of his illegitimate son. I took this opportunity also to introduce the arena. ****Great spoiler, I know, but I promise you that the theme of Greek mythology will be well developed, so stay tuned, please. What to do think of Ismene's idea for the arena? What should she do with Izumi?**

**Starting from the next chapter, submitters will be able to assign their extra points. Submissions for sponsors are still available.**

**Thank you for reading :) **

* * *

***You can find the description of one of them in**_** Love Is the Deadliest Weapon**_** chapter 3 (D1 Reaping)**

********The same ****of** _**Love Is the Deadliest Weapon**_


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